Knowing You
by dulce.de.leche.go
Summary: A dwindling magical population, a community divided, one panicked Ministry, and a forced marriage law that swears it has paired citizens with their most suitable match. What do you do when your spouse is your most loathed compatriot? Well you date them, of course. Dramione. Post-Hogwarts/War, EWE format. Rated M for language and sexual themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**Summary: **A dwindling magical population, a community divided, one panicked Ministry, and a forced marriage law that swears it's paired citizens with their most suitable match. What do you do when your spouse is your most loathed compatriot? Well you date them, of course. Dramione. Post-Hogwarts/War, EWE format. Rated M for language and sexual themes.

**A/N: **This is my take on the Marriage Law writing prompt and is meant to be more of a romantic comedy than anything. The intention is to keep everything as lighthearted as possible, though there will be a bit of drama/angst I'm sure. Overall it's meant to be a funny take on what happens when the society is no longer threatened by dark magic and instead something much more mundane. This is my absolute favorite writing prompt for this pairing/universe and I apologize in advance if some of the themes in my story may be present in others' stories. Seeing as it's my favorite, I have read tons of them and have things I liked or didn't like in my head whenever I think of this that have inevitably come out in my writing. I'm trying very hard to be conscious of it and not take from another person's story beyond some naturally commonly shared themes, hopefully I will succeed.

Updates will be casual, but optimistically I would like to have one every week at the least. I request that any grammatical/spelling corrections be sent to me via PM versus leaving information in a review, though good and bad reviews are both welcome, I also ask that the negative ones at least be constructive.

Now without further stalling, here we go. Please remember to read and review as you so choose. Thanks all!

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_**Knowing You**_

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Five years.

A lot can happen in five years.

People get together.

People grow apart.

People change their views and opinions on things.

People fall in love, get married, have families...except that they don't.

They tried to give it time. They tried to let people recover from the shock and devastation of the Second Wizarding War. The numbers were bad immediately following, but that's to be expected in a time of war; that's what they told themselves anyway.

That's what they told themselves for the three years following the war.

People were just recovering.

People were scared to marry, scared to have children.

Despite the change in the air, the new views on witches and wizards of all different backgrounds and upbringings, people were _scared_. They were terrified of what lay in waiting for the next generation. The people that suffered the most through the last war were now the people tasked with the responsibility of repopulating the already dwindling magical society and, to put it bluntly, if left to their own devices, the entirety of wizarding Britain would be downright _**screwed**_.

The new post-war Ministry was full of different faces, kinder faces, faces full of tolerance and knowledge, but faces that had to make a decision. When the numbers were revealed and discussed with the top, most highly praised, Arithmancers and the predictions were made, those same faces had to act. The decision wasn't easy, nor was it expected to go over any better than a lead balloon within the magical community, but it _had_ to be done lest there _be no_ magical community left.

They gave it a couple more years to correct itself and when there was little to no progress made on its own, the council met and deliberated. They bickered and yelled. They protested and preached. Day after relentless day the meetings continued and after several months of trying to find other ways that would yield the results needed to keep their society afloat and thriving, they finally came to a decision and made their announcement.

_**August 1, 2003 The Ministry enacted The Recovery, Reconstruction, and Repopulation Act.**_

It would come to be known as many things after its termination in 2013: archaic, ridiculous, a savior to the magical community; however, if we're in the business of calling a 'spade' a 'spade' the most accurate description would still be 'The Forced Marriage Law of 2003'.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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_**Knowing You**_

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The lift shuddered, creaking obnoxiously as it settled into place. He hated this floor. Merlin, how he hated this floor. Granted, there were only a handful of times he actually had to make the trek over to it for any kind of business, but the unpleasantness of each of those times held more weight than any of his other day to day tasks.

The cage door swept aside, the path cleared into what he scathingly came to call 'The GryffinPuff Gauntlet'. Someone to his rear cleared their throat, the simple sound indicating that he was in the way and they needed to get off here as well – he gave that someone a long perfected sneer that seemed to take care of the little tickle in their throat right away. Taking a deep, calming breath, Draco set foot onto the second level of The Ministry building with a steely gaze and sights set on his destination with no room for interruption in his stride.

The Auror office wasn't huge in comparison to several other departments within the huge building, but it was large enough to be intimidating. At least it may have been intimidating for someone who was not Draco Malfoy. For Draco, it was simply an oversized annoyance to his already stressful and busy day. He had wanted to work here once, he'd even been part of the class that had come back to Hogwarts to finish their shortened final school year and had made sure to take all the necessary courses as well as realign his scores to where they needed to be.

It's funny how much better in school you can be without an insane man taking residence in your home and threatening to kill you and your family if you don't kill everyone that has a difference of opinion; enlightening, that experience. The whole thing had sparked something in him, a desire to do better, a need to make up for it all in a way. Draco had thought that his knowledge of spells, both light and dark, his expertise with potions, and just generally his experience on the other side of the coin would be a valuable and sought after resource to the Auror department. A few of the members of The Ministry thought so as well, however the Head of the Auror Office seemed to _strongly_ disagree.

Regardless of the fact that his scores were leaps and bounds better than Saint Potter's, and the Weasel's were hardly even worth mentioning, the man wouldn't even give Draco a second thought. The kindest explanation he was given was that the others wouldn't be able to focus on their tasks and missions with him at their back because he may still be seen by some as a traitor or 'likely to turn'.

So much for second chances.

So here he was. Standing in front of a door with a stack of folders tucked in the crook of his arm, impeccably dressed – as always – for his stable and unadventurous position as Director of Domestic and Foreign Trade within the Department of International Magical Cooperation, International Magical Trading Standards Body division, handling the regulation and redistribution of potion ingredients with a focus on rare or hazardous materials. It was a long and fancy title for possibly the dullest desk job in existence. Sure, every once in a blue moon he'd actually go on location to procure or consult with gatherers in the field for some of the items and that always proved to be interesting, but for the vast majority of his days he was stuck sitting buried beneath stacks upon stacks of reports and proposals and all sorts of gryphon shite that drove him batty. Draco sighed at the door, raising his knuckles to rap on the tacky looking privacy glass, right under the big bold letters that read 'CURSE-BREAKER LIAISON'.

"Come in." The sharp command was only slightly muffled by the barrier between rooms.

His most familiar sneer found its way to his face out of reflex alone, but he knew the routine well enough. Giving the knob a rough twist and a shove, he let himself into the modestly sized office. The second his polished square toed shoes crossed the threshold, his sneer melted into a charmingly condescending smirk. Draco took in the sight of the woman behind the desk, papers piled around her in obsessively neat stacks, an engraved brass plaque sitting in the dead center of it all with her quill scribbling like mad on a long piece of parchment, the top of which stretched across the top of the desk to curl over the side and tickle the carpeted floor. She didn't even spare him a glance at his entry.

Draco let the door slam shut loudly behind him, the sudden bang startling her upright and causing her to snap her quill tip off, smearing a line of ink through a portion of her work. His smirk morphed into a brilliant grin, "Evening Granger."

"Malfoy." Hermione's stare appeared bored, though in truth it was one of many carefully orchestrated masks that she'd used the last three years to attempt to bear his unwelcome presence as painlessly as possible. In truth, her irritation levels were already about an 8 out of 10 and Draco Malfoy was the absolute last person she wanted to deal with before the end of her shift.

Sauntering his way over to the massive mahogany desk, he smiled charmingly down at her, interrupting her attempt to salvage her report by dropping the stack of files rather unceremoniously atop the spot where she was so delicately waving her wand to extract the stray ink blots. "You look positively knackered. Rough day, love?" He relished the way her lips thinned into a tight line and her left eye twitched at the endearment.

Calmly tucking her wand back into her sleeve, Hermione straightened again in her seat, clasping her hands on top of the paperwork he'd brought her and gave him a very brief hint of the most professional smile she could muster in the presence of someone's neck she wanted to wring. "Not at all, Malfoy, but thank you for your inkling of concern."

He flopped down into the cushy chair across from her, slouching into the seat and fixing her with a dazzling grin, "Not concern, just poking around to see who I should thank for running you ragged. It's rather my favorite look for you: stressed, frazzled, at your wits end over the countless mysteries you're still, and forever will be, unable to solve. I'm afraid I've become so busy doing all these tasks of _real_ importance that I haven't been able to visit you as often as I used to, to remind you exactly where you stand in the greater scheme of it all." If possible, his grin widened when her eye twitched again.

_'Well. That was rather...aggressive of him.'_ Hermione counted to ten as slowly as she could in her head, before she could respond, he kicked up his feet onto the edge of her desk and reclined comfortably. She counted to thirty this time, all the while, the idiot blonde just grinning at her like a cheeky idiot, quiet...but grinning. She took the time to examine him through what she was quite sure was a cold glare. His face was drawn in a mocking and jovial expression, but she could see lines around his eyes. Tiredness? Stress? She wasn't sure, she didn't really much _care_, but whatever the cause for them was also the cause for his current mood.

Hermione knew that she was often his verbal punching bag, she'd become used to thinly veiled insult after insult after all this time. However, they were usually at least that - veiled. He so seldom would come to her with such blatant displays and inflammatory behavior, but when he did, it was always something particularly bad getting under his skin. She would have to find out what had his poncy knickers in a twist from her connections in his department later for some properly timed payback. For now, she forced herself to smile and ignore his harsh attempts to get a rise out of her.

"Ah," she placed a hand over one of his shoes where his ankles were crossed on her desk, "And here I thought that you'd mysteriously developed some kind of capacity for experiencing empathy and expressing human sympathy overnight. I forget that such emotions are signs of intelligent mammals and not common to the unfortunate and intellectually _under endowed_ members of family Mustelidae. My mistake." Hermione shoved his feet off the wood so hard his chair rocked back onto two of its legs, his arms and legs flailing to keep balance until it landed heavily back onto the carpet.

Draco's fingers clenched into the cushions of the armrests once he was sure his seat was stable again. He growled, the grin from before resuming its more natural state of that foul sneer, "Enough with the pleasantries. It's late and I'm looking to get home. Sign the fucking paperwork and I'll be on my way."

Nonchalantly, she flipped open the topmost folder, eyes scanning over the print, "Perhaps it wouldn't be so late that we're doing this if _you_ weren't so late in getting here."

Growing irritated at her proximity sooner than usual this evening, Draco pushed himself back to his feet and made to wander around her small office. With one hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks, he meandered over to a mid-sized bookshelf that had several reference tomes - '_Curse Identification, Removal, Quarantine, and You!' - _interspersed with personal objects and knickknacks that belonged to the insufferable bitch reading over his revision of her proposals for getting a new supply of some of the rarer ingredients she used in her brews to aid these useless Aurors in their artefact search and rescue missions. Draco plucked an enchanted snow globe from the top of the shelf, quirking an eyebrow when he saw that it was of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch with several teeny tiny dots of red and green flying around frantically, even through the cascade of fake magical snow raining down on the scene.

"Thought you didn't much care for Quidditch, Granger." He squinted, trying to see if the team members were actually supposed to be anyone in particular or they were just representing the different house colors. His curious look turned into a grimace when he thought he could make out 'POTTER' across the back of one of the red billowing capes.

"I don't. It's a truly barbaric game masquerading as a sport that creates unnecessary rivalries between people that would otherwise likely get on fairly well." She responded flatly, scribbling her signature on one paper before closing the folder and turning to the next.

"The same could be said of any sport." Draco eyed the trinket again, his brain making sense of the tiny lettering until he realized that it was actually a captured scene of one of the Slytherin versus Gryffindor games he'd played in years ago. He snorted and shook the globe once more for good measure, angering the enchanted snowflakes within and sending them and the tiny people inside into a bit of a spin before placing it back in its spot. "In any case, I'm flattered that you would keep such a memento to remember me by Granger. My flying prowess was always much talk amongst the women folk of the school as I understand it, I'm not surprised that even a bookworm such as yourself was affected. S'no shame in it."

At first, she had no idea what he was blabbering on about, but when she looked up to see him smirking at the globe on her bookcase, she couldn't help the derisive noise that tugged itself from her throat. It immediately drew his attention and a frown. "You should have a closer look at that one, Malfoy. And think very hard." When he was obviously resisting doing just that, she elaborated, going back to signing off on the proposals as she spoke. "That was the closing game of the season that year. Our houses had tied the game up til that point with the cup on the line." She could envision Draco's eyes widening as she painted the picture, one she was sure he remembered _very_ well. The amusement crept steadily into her voice and she couldn't help it – rather she didn't want to.

"You and Harry had both spotted the Snitch and were very nearly neck and neck. Elbows. Heels. Fists. A bit of a brawl between you two if I do recall, each trying to get one up on the other to capture it and win the game. You almost had it, your fingertips just brushing those little buzzing wings, ready to close in just a second before Harry could, then _**BAM!**_ Bludger clean to the side of your pointy face, thanks to your very own teammate. You went to the medical wing, Harry caught the Snitch, and the rest, as they say, was history." As an afterthought she added, "Ron gave me that for Christmas that year."

Hermione snuck a peek at him then, delighted with the heated glare of outrage trying to burn up the globe from the inside out. "Were the rumors true, Malfoy? Was it really Adrian Pucey? I'm not much for gossip, you know, but the girls all chattered about it saying something about it being because you were boffing his girlfriend at the time..."

"You should stick to your books, Granger. They seem to be your only friends that don't contain masses of misinformation, even if _they_ don't help with your stunted social graces," he growled warningly.

"Mmm, so you _weren't_ boffing his girlfriend then?"

"Sign the fucking papers."

Hermione peered up at him, her nose pointed to the last couple of documents but her eyes zeroed in on his fuming face, making no move to hide the satisfaction of her victory over this particular spat. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much..."

Draco grit his teeth and clenched his knuckles so tightly they popped audibly. Of course he wasn't boffing one of his house mate's girlfriends. He may have been a lot of things, but a cheat was not one of them. He'd very adamantly refrained from maintaining any kind of serious dating relationship while in school, though it was no secret that he did indulge in some of the nicer perks that often came of being in a relationship. Be that as it may, he was no scumbag. Women that were spoken for were just that and not to mention that no kind of bint was worth all the trouble that came with trying to steal them away. He'd never admit to that, of course, he had a reputation to uphold...a scandalous, silly, schoolyard reputation, but a reputation nonetheless. Truth or lie, he knew she didn't actually give a damn so he just ignored the insinuation.

"The. Papers. Granger."

Sighing disinterestedly, Hermione went back to scribbling her signature. "Yes yes yes, I'm almost done then you can go home. This is the last – wait. No, wait a moment." Her brows dipped and a deep frown stole all her amusement away, eyes darting over the print several times then shooting up to stare hard at the blonde still milling around her keepsakes. "You revised this."

"As one typically does when they review documents for revisions. I'm afraid I didn't commit your dozens of requests this time around to memory, which one is that?" He knew exactly which document she was looking at, and while part of him had changed it to be spiteful, the other part of him did actually revise it with real professionalism in mind. He did have a business to help run after all.

"Don't give me your shit, Malfoy," the gloves were off, he did this on purpose! "The Re'em blood. Your counter proposal is a doubled amount of Salamander blood in its stead. You can't substitute for Re'em blood and you know it!"

Draco rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the bookshelf. "You _can_ and _**you**_ know that. Don't even try to convince me that you don't. Your marks in potions were barely behind mine, which as we both know, were top of the class."

"They're not the same!" She gestured at the paper in front of her with a lip curled in disgust. "You can't just switch out these two things so casually! The Aurors need the extra boost and protection when they bring in these artefacts for me to examine and I won't just agree to jeopardizing their safety because you want to save a few Galleons!"

"A FEW Galleons?" He huffed, "We're not shitting money, woman! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to actually get blood from a Re'em, one – without killing it, and two – without getting killed? Also, there's the little task of finding one first. I don't see you on any of the expeditions going to corral them, so until they become more readily available to sit and have a chat with, you'll just have to make do."

"Dammit, Malfoy!" Hermione slammed her hands onto the desk, jumping to her feet and raising her voice in outrage. "I thought we were past this! I know you don't like me, but these are people's lives we're gambling with when you refuse such a simple request!"

"Please! As though it were about you," Draco snorted, angry now that she would even think to question his professionalism in this manner because of personal grudges. With no shortage of huffing and puffing, he stomped up to the other side of her desk, waving an accusatory finger at her. "Just because you don't have to consider the costs of these things you're always asking for doesn't mean I have the same luxury! Everything I sign off on to supply your silly little department comes to you essentially for free even though SOMEWHERE in the line we still have to pay our scouts to locate and secure the areas containing our resources, our gatherers to go in and collect everything as carefully and efficiently as possible, and our potioneers to evaluate the quality of everything they procure! Your Aurors don't even provide the security that's required to obtain something as rare as blood from a Re'em because they're too busy doing something akin to twiddling their thumbs up their arses with other bullshit tasks the bloody Head of Office has them running around doing! You'll use Salamander blood, or you'll have nothing at all." He was leaning forward, lips curled off his teeth in a snarl and much closer to her than when he'd initially started his angry tirade.

Hermione narrowed her eyes dangerously. Her first instinct was to spit something venomous his way, but she really needed this ingredient to do her job properly and she wasn't petty enough to lose any chance of that just for the satisfaction of dressing down the man in front of her. Nostrils flared, she tried cooling her temper and speaking reasonably, "You can't substitute it – not equally."

"Which is why I've doubled the allotment for the Salamander's blood to accommodate for the brewing strength you would lose between the two," he grit out like he were speaking to a First Year.

"They don't function the same, you bloody twat!" So much for being cool headed. Her reply was equally condescending. "A Salamander, is a lizard, a Re'em, is bovine – while, yes, many of their magical properties are very similar, they're not, and never should be, considered interchangeable! I've no idea what kind of effects the substitution could have on the potions and this is not a line of work where experimentation is a good thing!"

"Well either your bloody Aurors will have to learn how to actually be competent at their jobs, or they'll have to leech off of yours when you alter the fucking brew to use what I give you!"

Hermione faltered, if only for a second – did he just compliment her competency? She shook her head and clutched the offensive paper in hand, shaking it at him. "This is not negotiable, Malfoy!"

Draco growled, glaring hard at the paper being waved in his face, "You're right, it's NOT. You'll take it, or leave it." He snatched up the other papers in their respective folders and turned on his heel to exit the office with another loud slam of her door.

This Merlin forsaken woman always found a way to weasel her way under his skin and he wasn't in the mood for it today. It was Thursday, they only had one more day in the week and he'd rather not have to finish out the work week as stressfully as it had begun. The accountants were harassing him a lot as of late, as though they had no other things to worry about aside from making his life a veritable living hell. They always complained about his expenses and always while ignoring his reports as well as proposals to cut costs – such as partnering with the Auror department for security like he'd mentioned before.

Draco had several ideas to streamline things between departments and make improvements on profits as well as safety but everyone was content to ignore him and just peg him for being deceitful and dastardly, the same as they've been doing the past few years since he became part of the team. He had been quite accommodating to internal requests, but it wasn't cheap, and while he was expected to operate his department and his team within a budget, it sure as shit seemed like nobody else was held to these same standards. It was almost like being in school or under his father's thumb again. Everyone plugged him into such a particular role and expected him to play it to a tee that they were wholeheartedly content to ignore any efforts he'd made to contribute and generally do well by his fellow employees in their own endeavors.

Well fine.

If that's what they all wanted, that was just dandy. He would play his role and lock down the resources tighter than Granger's arse. That would shed some light onto just how much of a drain The Ministry was on itself...or at least it would if anyone would fucking listen to him and look at his reports.

Draco powered his way through the office, ignoring the curious stares that the staff had given him on his way back to the lift. He massaged the bridge of his nose, waiting for the damned thing to get there while quietly lamenting to himself about the huge pain that woman was. He was glad that the meetings here weren't extremely frequent, though he couldn't help but revisit the witch's request. As much as he loathed to admit, she was correct about the comparability of the two ingredients. Re'em blood was definitely much more potent than Salamander and even though they had similar effects, there was really no true substitution for the former. He was sure he could concoct something that would imitate what she needed, though not with Salamander blood alone, even that would require at least a fraction of Re'em blood...

"Malfoy! Wait!"

His head turned, glancing over his shoulder casually at the hail to see a frizzy haired Granger tromping towards him with the paper clutched in her hand and a rather sour look on her face. He ignored the elevator car's arrival ding and turned to her expectantly, "It's late, I hope you have a reason for making me miss my ride?"

Hermione growled and shoved the document at him again, strangling her quill in her other hand as she tapped it irritatedly against her thigh, "_My_ counter proposal."

Not sure what he was expecting, Draco plucked the parchment from her tightly fisted grip and allowed his eyes to roam across the page. When he realized that she'd added one quarter of her original asking amount of the Re'em blood as a supplement to the amount he proposed for the Salamander, he realized she'd also come to his earlier conclusion. He hid his smirk at that; yes, there was a reason Hermione Granger had nipped at his heels in Advanced Potions. With a curt nod, he borrowed her quill and initialed off on the alteration to his document and let her sign and initial where she needed to as well.

"Right, then. Pleasure doing business with you, Granger." He smiled sweetly at her, tucking the paper in with some of the others in one of the folders.

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Friday. Finally. What a hell of a week.

Hermione toweled off her hair, eying her lightly pinked skin in the mirror as she got ready for work. She'd been having a particularly difficult time assisting the Aurors with the identification of a cursed bracelet that was implicated in a handful of attempted murders on the south side of town and while they finally had the piece of jewelry in custody, it still didn't make her feel any better to not have a solution. With a huge sigh, she hung her one towel at the back of her bathroom door and untucked the other that was still fastened around her and hung it over the drying rack. Having her customary once over of herself in the fogged up post-shower mirror first for appraisal she then padded back into her bedroom to get dressed for another dull day. While slipping on a fresh set of knickers and bra she was interrupted in her daily routine by a sharp tapping at her bedroom window.

Glancing at the clock by her bed and seeing it was still quite early, she turned back to the small shadow fluttering at her windowsill. "What on earth.." As soon as she slid open the pane, a tiny Ministry owl slipped in with a letter that bore a violet shaded circle of wax with The Minister's own personal seal pressed into it. Instantly, curiosity turned to dread. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good. Normal Ministry correspondence was always delivered with the official seal, anything coming directly from Kingsley himself was typically something requiring immediate attention, and oftentimes, concern.

Hermione carefully took the letter from the small bird, fed a few treats she kept near the window to it, and sent it on its way before flopping onto the edge of her mattress with the letter in hand. She flipped it over a few times, feeling the weight of it and deepening her frown. Plucking up some old fashioned Gryffindor courage, she popped the seal and unfolded the parchment.

There were actually two letters enclosed. The first to meet her eyes was one addressed personally to her from her friend, The Minister himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"_Hermione,_

_Enclosed alongside this note is a mandate that is being enacted as of today that will affect you quite personally. I felt it important, beyond our professional relationship – as your friend – that you should be one of the first few people privy to the information prior to its official announcement later this morning and that it should come from me. The notice following my letter to you will have been delivered to the vast majority of the other affected witches and wizards by the time you come in to the office today. As you read that letter, please understand that it was with an extremely heavy heart that I agreed to this decision and I fought for any other alternative available but was left only with this._

_I know I needn't caution you to keep this information quiet until the announcement today, but please remember to do so as there will be plenty of excitement later on as it is. I'm sorry for this, I hope you will continue to keep me in your heart as your friend after today. __If you are in need of anything, please come see me._

_Sincerely,_

_Kingsley"_

Hermione gulped and stared at the letter shakily, her hands having started trembling somewhere shortly after reading the first line. The new Ministry that Kingsley was trying very hard to run fairly and with a sense of justice was not quite floundering, but it was not thriving and doing as well as she knew he hoped it would. Even after two wizarding wars and so many years of conflict, people were still resistant to change, even if it was for the better and she knew that he struggled still with some members of the council. She did, however, have faith that her friend would only make the decisions that were best for them all.

So then why was she so terrified to flip to the next page?

"Oh come off it," she pep talked to herself encouragingly, "How bad could it really be?"

Not allowing herself to fret over it any longer, she flipped to the next page, instantly greeted by The Ministry seal printed at the very top of the paper.

"_Dear Citizen of Wizarding Britain,_

_As we are all aware, post-war times can be a difficult and trying thing. While it is not uncommon for societies such as ours to feel growing pains as we move forward to a bigger and better state in our recovery, it has been a matter of concern to us for some time now that we are not __experiencing the normal level of growth to our community that is needed for which to properly grow and thrive._

_As your Ministry, we have monitored and researched trends to determine how we are doing and where we will be in years to come to assure that we will remain a healthy and stable wizarding society and have regrettably found that we are not repopulating at nearly the rate at which is required to maintain __nor__ expand. The factors as to why this may be are limitless, and while we understand there may be a myriad of personal reasons that are affecting each individual's decisions in __abstaining from__ expanding our community and next generation of witches and wizards, we unfortunately have deemed it necessary to take action._

_You are receiving this letter on this day, __**Friday, August 1st of 2003**__, to formally advise you of the enactment of __**The Recovery, Reconstruction, and Repopulation Act **__(hereby referred to as "__**The Act**__")__. Under __**The Act**__, single and married individuals between the ages of 20 and 40, as of this date, will be drafted in the restoration of our community. _

_**For Single Individuals: **__We have researched with the wizarding world's top Arithmancers as well as our partners in the Muggle Science Division to determine appropriate means of recovery and have, as such, paired unmarried persons together to create the most optimal matches __for reproduction__ with regards to individual/familial history __including, but not limited to: __hereditary__ strengths and weaknesses, social stature, income, and physical and mental health. _

_We have worked very hard to match single individuals __with appropriate partners in order to create our best chance for survival as a community during these hard times. __We understand that there may be cause for you, as an individual, to protest these matches, but please understand that the decisions are made for our best __interests as a whole and they are also non-negotiable. You and your determined partner will have options in regards to the marriage ceremony and be allotted a maximum of three (3) years from the date of the ceremony to produce at least one (1) offspring to integrate into our community. _

_Please see __the __attached appointment __sheet for your meeting time at which point you will have the opportunity to meet your future spouse and speak with a counselor and express any questions or concerns you may have._

_**For Married Individuals:** In accordance with our need to repopulate the wizarding community, it will be mandated that currently married couples falling into the age group specified above will be required to produce at least one (1) offspring to integrate into our community within a maximum of three (3) years from the enactment of **The Act** if not currently raising or with child. Please understand that the decisions made are for our best interests as a whole and they are also non-negotiable._

_Please see the attached appointment sheet for your meeting time at which point you will have the opportunity to speak with a counselor and express any questions or concerns you may have._

_**To All Of Our Citizens:** We wish to express that it was with no light discussion that we made this decision and that we appreciate your complete and total cooperation in this matter. Please take heart that you will all be known as heroes to our society because of your compliance and assistance you offer us in these times._

_Respectfully,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Minister for Magic"_

The paper behind the main letter appeared to be her appointment sheet. It just listed her pertinent identifying demographic information and in large, dooming lettering several spaces below that, showed her appointment date and time:

_**Friday, August 1, 2003, 10:00AM, Ministry Building Level 5, International Magical Office of Law, Meeting Room 3.**_

She'd read it. She'd probably read it about a dozen times in the expanse of a few minutes still trying to make sense of the words. Did this say what she thought it said? The Ministry was rolling out a law to get the community to procreate? A forced marriage law coupled with forcing people to have babies...that's what this was. That's all that this was, just with a fancy name to draw the eye and mind away from the reality of how archaic it was!

There were many emotions that coursed through her at the processing of the notice: fear at being subjected to an arranged marriage, disgust that the Ministry of Magic felt they had the right to impose such a thing onto their citizens, outrage at the idea that she was just expected to roll over and take it in the proverbial arse.

"Bugger this bullshit!"

Hermione felt her blood pumping and pounding in her ears, she knew if she were to look in the mirror that all of her skin would be flushed and angry from the thoughts manifesting themselves in her head. She spared a glance to her bedside clock – quarter after 6 – nobody would be in the office yet, but something told her that Kingsley would be...and he'd very likely be expecting her. Folding the letters back up with no small amount of force to the movements, Hermione gathered her wits, got herself dressed, and Flooed to The Ministry to have a word with her _friend_.

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-..-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

Draco stomped angrily, uncaringly, down the hall towards The Minister's office, eyes more focused on the letter in his hand than where he was actually going. It was because of this, that he nearly plowed into the side of a familiar bespectacled Auror.

"Eyes up, Malfoy."

The comment was stern but not too harsh, the voice sounded irritated but not necessarily at him. Draco's head snapped up from perusing the letter over and over again and was met with the green eyes of Harry Potter. Their working relationship was relatively non-existent, but at least over the past few years the two had come to a mutual understanding to the point where they weren't constantly fighting and trying to kill one another. The fact that he had a better relationship with the boy-who-unfortunately-lived who he saw barely once in a good month than with Granger whom he had to make trips to see at least twice, but usually more, was a curious thing, though in his daily life full of blatantly distrustful and rude people, he supposed he would take what he could get. It was a tiring thing to be such a snot to _everyone_ anyway and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy riling up the brunette to see her reactions as well as provide a sense of comfortable familiarity to his day to day.

"Potter, Potterette," he greeted them simply and finally took a look around. Potter was there with his wife, both looking tired and irate, there was a smattering of other people milling around the waiting area in front of The Minister's closed door. It was another of those wooden doors with the silly looking mottled privacy glass – as though that actually helped provide any real privacy – and it was most obviously closed and locked. He couldn't hear anything but he did make out some frantically moving blobs of color behind the glass. A fine blonde brow lifted in question and he turned back to the Auror again, "Who's in there ripping into Shacklebolt?"

"Hermione," Ginny answered, arms folded across her chest. "We both got here shortly after she did."

Harry added, "Just in time to see her walk in and slam the door. She's been in there for at least an hour."

Draco frowned, glanced at the door again, then back to the redhead who was regarding him carefully as she always did – she never seemed to know what to make of him. Perhaps if he didn't harass her husband and best friend as much as he did, they'd get on better between themselves, talking about her latest escapades in the Holyhead Harpies and whatall, but he did, so they didn't. He held up his letter and appointment sheet for the couple to see, "I take it you all got one of these also?"

Harry nodded and took a seat in one of the nearby chairs, finally figuring that the woman in Kingsley's office was not going to be out any time soon. "Yeah. It's a bunch of b-"

"_Harry-_"

"-a bunch of junk," he amended what he was going to say, "It's good to know that _this_ is what we fought for – signing up for a breeding farm."

Draco eyed the other man and took a seat down a few chairs. Maybe it was just because it was too early for him to put on his goody two shoes face, but Potter's open disdain for any kind of Ministry orders – to _him,_ Draco Malfoy, of all people – was a rare sight indeed.

"It's a bit of a kick in the bollocks I imagine – _for you_." He didn't even flinch at the look the man gave him, merely provided a shrug and sunk into his chair more comfortably. "I'm serious. Arranged marriages are nothing new with The Ministry nor with many of the older wizarding families. Just ask your wife if you don't believe me."

"Our family hasn't believed in arranged marriages for a long time, Malfoy. Unlike _yours," _Ginny made no move to hide the disgust in her voice at the very thought. "They were mostly done for political reasons and that silly idea of 'blood purity'."

"Why are you here?" Harry butted in before the two got into it. He was already annoyed at the fact that this was all happening and didn't feel like dealing with another point of contest today as well. While it wasn't going to affect them as much as the witch who, evidently had at least 90 minutes of things to say about it also, he still felt there was something innately wrong about being given timelines and deadlines on things as important as starting a family.

"Same as you probably, Potter, I have questions and preferred to go straight to the source." Draco answered with a drawl, stretching his feet out in front of him. "And maybe say a thank you as well."

"Oh, of course such a believer of the 'old ways' would have no problems with this."

"I never said I didn't have any problems with it, Red. I think it's a bloody awful idea to force people to marry someone for shit like this." The blonde flashed Ginny an infuriating smirk, "But it just may have gotten me out of my previous engagement, and if that's the case, I might go skipping down the hall. Maybe even click my heels together in celebration!"

"Who in Godric's name would willingly marry you?"

Draco's smirk transformed into a dark scowl at the redhead, the boy wonder sitting awkwardly in a spot between the three of them so his glare had to span the distance. "Well as you so glibly mentioned before, my family is still one of the more old fashioned lot. There was a previous engagement made between my parents and the Greengrass' that I've been trying to figure some way out of since it was signed and this may have just made my fucking day – provided it supersedes that arrangement anyway."

"Greengrass? I thought Daphne was already married-"

"Not Daph, the little one, Tori. Astoria." Draco grimaced even just saying the name.

Harry's eyes were going back and forth between the pair's conversation, watching it slip from friendly to menacing and back with silent amusement until he decided to ask, "What's wrong with Astoria?"

Gray eyes zeroed in on Potter and his frown deepened. "She's young and she _acts_ it. She's got the personality of a stale biscuit and she's utterly infatuated with me."

"Save for the stale biscuit part, she sounds just like your cuppa tea," Ginny sneered, "No, scratch that, even with the stale biscuit part."

Draco snorted, but didn't give her the satisfaction of letting her get him riled up, "S'all well and good when you're in school maybe, but I _do_ actually prefer a woman that can keep up with the conversation. Someone with some fire to her and not just an unimpressive face in the crowd or a daft bint willing to spread her legs for a family fortune."

Both Potter's looked at him then, curious. His tone had dropped to almost a wistful note as he said the last and there was a disconcerting feeling that something in the air had shifted from their normal light squabbling to something slightly more serious. Feeling it too, Draco shifted in his seat, realizing his slip and searching for something to say to save face and keep from sounding like a bleedin' Hufflepuff, though when the _muffliato_ wore off from the room just beyond the door, he was saved by the bell – or rather by Hermione's animated ranting.

"_**-bloody bullshit!"**_

"_**Miss Granger!"**_

"_**Don't Miss Granger me! You can't pull the boss card AND the friend card all at the same bloody time! This is bullshit and you know it! I'm not some broodmare! Honestly, after all this generation has done already, you can't seriously expect-"**_

"_**Hermione, I'm sorry, but it's already passed. Believe me, I tried to go a different route but I was overruled!"**_

"_**Overruled? You're the damn Minister!"**_

There was a crash that sounded like a rubbish bin getting knocked around followed by an unsettling stretch of silence. Softer voices came then, no longer clear in their speech through the door, and then something sounding like sniffling. More silence and another softer set of murmurs.

The trio looked at the door, the two Potter's with more than a hair of concern and Draco with the same frown he'd been sporting most of the morning thus far. The soft sounds stopped suddenly and Draco gathered that one of the two found their earlier spell had fizzled away and put up another one to silence their conversation again. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and tugged his pocket watch from its spot in his suit jacket to check the time then replaced it. Granger obviously wasn't going to be done in there any time soon and he needed to get some work done today. Regardless of the huge announcement and resulting circus that the Atrium and all floors were likely to be soon, he had no doubt that he would be expected to function as though hundreds of witches and wizards' lives weren't being upended. What else was new?

Draco eyed the appointment slip in his lap again for his meeting time with his future wife, rubbing his thumb over the date and time thoughtfully:

_**Friday, August 1, **__**2003, 10:00AM, Ministry Building Level 5, International Magical Office of Law, Meeting Room 3**__._

_'Roughly 2 hours left before the meeting...'_He grunted and pushed to his feet to make his way to his office on that very level, idly wishing for it to be anyone but Astoria. After spending some decidedly unpleasant days in her company, he was almost positive anyone was better than her. He'd very nearly say he'd even take Bulstrode instead, though that was a bit dramatic; also she was somehow already married, so he was thankfully safe in those regards.

"Where are you off to, ferret?"

Draco didn't even bother turning back around to grace the redhead with a sneer and casually flipped up a pair of fingers in a salute as he sauntered down the hall towards the lift. "Work to do, love. You and your hubby should try it some time."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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_**_,.-'~'-.,_,.-'~'-.,_**_

_**Knowing You**_

_**-.,_,.-'~'-.,_,.-****-**_

Hermione watched the floors and walls beyond the caged elevator doors pass by on her way upstairs, all the while having to remind herself to continue breathing steadily. The lift was supremely crowded, as was to be expected, and all seemed to be going to the same place. There were employees as well as regular citizens in this car and there was nothing but an eerie silence hanging over them all, a doomed kind of silence. Hermione glanced around and saw others doing the same, trying to take in the people around them, maybe figure in their head if they were heading to the same destination, and the most dreaded thought of them all – contemplating which of these strangers were the most likely to be their new husband or wife.

The thought nearly made her huff aloud again. There had been much of that today. After getting out of The Minister's office, and profusely apologizing for cursing him out, Hermione sat in her office in the Auror department for the next couple of hours. She got a boat load of nothing done and instead was ranting and raving to Harry and Ginny about the new law while everyone else in the department had their own ways of dealing. Most were angry, like her, some were just terribly depressed, and others didn't seem to care one way or the other.

To avoid taking her stress out on everyone on the floor, Hermione holed herself away in her office with the company of her friends. Between the three of them, they compared the conversations they'd each had with Kingsley as they were some of the very few that had received his personal letters and the notice of the mandate early. The talk calmed her nerves and her mind some, particularly when Harry detailed the statistics that Kingsley had provided to him when asked.

Apparently, the wizarding population had not only had the expected decline once the casualties of war were determined the following year, but it had more or less stagnated as far as growth was concerned. This wouldn't be as much of a problem if it were simply delegated to the wizarding community alone, but due to the nature of the war, it also affected much of the Muggle population. The _people_ of the country were in shorter supply and while the Muggles would continue to grow and recoup as though nothing ever happened – since for many survivors, thanks to the Obliviation teams, nothing did – the wizarding population was largely stunted.

Because of Voldemort's short-lived but significant reign, many of the surviving families were Purebloods and some of the more prestigious Half-Bloods with a much smaller survival rate being granted to the Muggle-born witches and wizards. Despite the lessons that should have been learned by these hard days, many of those families still wanted to stay tried and true to tradition if they decided to marry and continue their line on at all. With many Purebloods bent on breeding themselves into a delightfully pure extinction and never turning an eye to Muggles or Muggle-borns at all, it would only be a matter of time before they pittered out. With the war still being so fresh in the minds of the communities world-wide, immigration was also at an all time low, so there wasn't even any new blood coming in to help expansion on that front either. Between the physical casualties and fear, the picture that the council saw became all the more clear.

The lift stopped after what seemed ages of traveling just a few floors, the crosshatched gate sliding aside to welcome them all to level 5. Hermione shuddered a breath and hesitated, gazing at the hallway. It was now so much more daunting than usual, filled to the brim with people waiting for their appointments and their fates to be revealed. Normally, the crowd at her back would've shown some passive aggressive sign of impatience at her hesitance to step out, but it seemed the feeling was mutual and spread between all passengers. The witch shook her head, clearing it of the fears and doubts still lingering there and she steeled herself with that age old Gryffindor courage and marched towards her destination in the International Magical Office of Law, room 3.

When Hermione reached the door with _MEETING ROOM 3_ printed in big black letters on the blurry glass that was everywhere in this building, her stomach dropped, now faced with the reality of what was about to happen but before she could turn tail and run, she twisted the knob and entered. Her head had trouble making sense of the picture before her for several moments. A familiar blonde head turned her way, eyes narrowing when he recognized her face.

"Lost, Granger?" Draco spoke before the case worker behind the desk could even acknowledge her.

"I apologize, I must have the wrong room," Hermione stammered, her mouth a few steps ahead of her brain and even as she said it, she knew somewhere in the back of her mind and the pit of her stomach that was now churning with bile that she didn't. This was it. She stared hard at her appointment sheet, then the door, then the sheet, then the infuriating blond before her, the sheet, then the clock on the wall – Meeting Room 3, 10:00. "No..this...this, is the right room. My appointment is at 10." It was mumbled almost so quietly only she could hear it, though the disbelief in her tone was clear as crystal.

Draco snorted and pushed off from his seat to where she stood like a deer in headlights and snatched the paper from her hand, "I don't think so, _my _appointment is at 10." He haughtily looked over her paperwork, confident and ready to point out her error, only to find that she was not, in fact, mistaken at all. Gray eyes flitted across the paper over and over until the words blurred and made little to no sense any longer. Reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve his own sheet he held them side by side to see a perfectly matching pair of appointment times, both leading to this very room at this very time.

He was wrong.

Morgana's left tit, was he wrong.

There _**was**_ somebody worse than Astoria.

If possible, Draco's already fair skin paled to a sickly shade. His mouth dried out and eyes turned into horrified saucers that couldn't peel themselves away from Hermione's equally shocked face. Their world narrowed around them, the sounds and lights dulling in their senses, the air between them stagnant and cold sinking into their very bones and neither could move, they could hardly even breathe. Somehow, even though a multitude of possibilities had crossed both of their minds when contemplating the situation before, **THIS** was never an option.

Yet here they were. If both hadn't been in such a state of shock they might have appreciated the irony of it all, instead, they just stared, unblinking like statues, at the impossible.

"Miss Granger? Mister Malfoy?" The case worker spoke up, succeeding in getting both of their attentions. She motioned to the seats before the large desk with an oblivious and patronizing smile. "Please, have a seat and we can begin."

Hermione gulped, huge chocolate eyes stuck on the blonde while she shuffled robotically to the chair indicated, too shocked to do much else.

Draco watched her move, still frozen in his spot until his thoughts finally caught up with everything and the gears in his head started whirring back into action. He felt a sick wave of nausea wash over him with the second, third, and fourth moments that he understood what was happening. The Ministry wanted two of the most incompatible people since Harry Potter and Voldemort themselves to prance down the fucking aisle together. '_Bloody buggering hell...'_

"Mister Malfoy?"

Draco's face turned in the direction of the woman's voice. He saw her smile again politely and gesture to the empty seat he'd occupied earlier. He saw Granger sitting in the one next to it, clutching onto her letter with trembling hands and her gaze locked in a forward position. His legs moved methodically, his subconscious taking him to his chair but his feet dragging like a man in chains.

That's what he was, after all, a doomed man.

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-..-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

"-have an option to have a ceremony or a court wedding. If you opt to have a formal ceremony, please keep in mind anything beyond the individual officiating it will be provided by yourselves. We will waive all normal fees associated with applying for and obtaining a marriage license and provide someone to perform the binding ceremony, but all the extra frills would be on your end-"

He was staring. She felt him staring, glaring really. Hermione tried her best to keep her own stare forward on the case worker that was too absorbed in reading through her script to make any considerate amount of eye contact. And so she found her eyes wandering, floating to her right where the blonde wizard sat slouched in the chair and making no motion to hide how hard he was scowling at her as though she were the one that plotted it all out in the first place.

"-eremony must be performed within two weeks of today's date and once the union has been consummated your official paperwork will manifest the Ministry's seal and be legalized through the court. Now, I have a packet of information here that you both will want to look over-"

"Sorry, what was that?"

"What was what, Miss Granger?" Their case worker looked up from sliding the thick stack of papers towards the future couple.

"That last part. Can you repeat that?"

"Of course. You'll have two weeks from today-"

"No, no, no, after that."

The woman quirked an eyebrow, speaking slowly, "Your paperwork will manifest-"

"_No_. Before that. Th-th-the part in the middle. Did you say we have to consummate the union before it will be legal?"

Draco, still scowling, answered acerbically before the woman could with as much malice as he could muster. "She did, Granger. You mean to tell me that in all those fancy books of yours, you've never read up on a wizard's wedding? What? You figure you would just never have need of the information?"

The nervousness and sheer terror that had bubbled up at the thought of _having_ to have sex with Draco Malfoy in the next two weeks like it were some kind of dental appointment drained out of her when his familiar tone flipped a switch inside of her. That tone was the one he used when he was looking for a fight, just like last night. It was dark and low and slick but somehow grated against her spine in an unpleasant way. Unlike last night, however, today she was ready for a fight. In fact, she _welcomed_ it.

"Sorry, Malfoy," came her tart reply, the insults tumbling out of her like a second language, "I just happened to think I wouldn't need those details any time soon, what with actually having a significant life and career path beyond political posturing. My agenda was unlike your being auctioned off by your parents to wed the daughter of the highest bidder - some blubbering bimbo that follows you about like a lost pup looking for a bit of a cuddle."

Draco sneered at her mocking, sitting more upright in his seat, fingers digging into the armchair as he responded in kind. "Oh? What's that you've got going for yourself again then? Oh that's right. They tuck you away in that closet of an office in the dank part of the department and bring you cursed jewels formed under the crushing pressure of an ogre's taint to solve a whodunnit while they waltz off with the credit after paying you your pittance. Right. You're right, very good lineup you've got there Granger."

"Unfortunately not all of us can have the ever prestigious task of wearing the most illustrious and overdecorated title for an overgrown quill pusher! Some of us have to actually take action!" Hermione growled back without a moment's hesitation, strangling the ink out of her appointment sheet as little flecks of gold burst and flared to life in her dark irises. "It's a shame you didn't make the cut to become an Auror, Malfoy. The boys could really use your unique take on things. They're not very well versed in their 'turning coat and running away' part of the job – actually I think they're severely lacking in that area. Think you could spare a moment one day to tutor?"

"Action!" he snorted, trying his damnedest to ignore the bait she dangled before him. He wasn't a coward, maybe once, but not anymore! How dare this bitch even try to go there! "Action? The only soddin' 'action' you're getting in that office is pining after the Weasel's arse when he leaves from giving you another bullshit task to solve, that him and the other shits are too stupid to figure out for themselves, so he can go shag his latest ditzy conquest! Yeah, all that 'action' you have to take every day sure is leaving your _own_ damn desk caked in dust." Draco leaned forward, voice even lower and his gray eyes cold and narrowed. "Oh, 'cept it _isn't_. Mighty useful you are there, love, keeping the essentials from floating off. Preach it to Shacklebolt and he might even give you that well deserved raise you're still looking for."

"How _DARE _you!" Hermione snarled and pointed at him threateningly. "You're nothing but a snot nosed, spoiled, prat!"

Draco met her growing rage, inch for inch, not backing down for a second when she encroached on his space. He saw the fingers of her right hand twitch and he knew that if she thought she could get away with it, she would've drawn on him and hexed him into oblivion. "I would come back with the classic, bushy haired, bossy, know-it-all, bitch, but I believe we've just proven mere minutes ago that you don't _actually _know everything. Fancy that!"

"You're an immature pig!" A red flush crept up from her chest into her neck and cheeks and the golden flecks in her eyes exploded and mingled with brown to create the most wild shade of amber possible in a human eye.

They were on their feet, toe to toe, nose to nose, with Hermione jabbing a finger into Draco's suit-clad chest and he, not feeling any kind of need to back down, towered over her darkly.

"And you're a prude with a broomstick shoved so far up her arse, you can't do anything but walk like the uptight bint you are!"

"That insult doesn't even make sense, you loathsome, egotistical, overinflated, tiny pricked, _twat!_"

"You can't talk about my prick AND call me a twat you stupid cu-"

"_**MISTER MALFOY! MISS GRANGER! You will refrain from any further commentary this instant if you value your jobs!**_"

The booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt a mere metre or two away startled the both of them out of their heated argument. The surprise of The Minister's appearance was plain on Hermione's face while Draco's held an only slightly lessened scowl than before. Standing in the same robes Hermione had seen him in earlier that morning, the dark skinned man was holding a violet colored sheet of paper with several pronounced creases in its surface – a memo – and looking between the two of them with a deep, disappointed frown.

To Hermione, it was obvious that he was standing there as an official and not as the friend that had comforted her during her break down that very same day. It was that reason, and that reason only, that made her bite her tongue before she turned her lashings on him as well. She wasn't cowed by his position, but she was not a fool either. Hermione bit back the several choice words that she very much felt like spitting his way.

Kingsley looked skeptical of the witch's lack of resistance, dark eyes darting between the two red faced adults and the case worker who'd snuck the memo to him during the future couple's row; he had to give her points for effort in trying her best not to express her immense discomfort at the display. He had a feeling that this particular match should have been handled personally but was hoping for the best from both. Draco had come leaps and bounds from where he started as the bigoted, prejudiced boy he once was – war would do that for some, though apparently still not enough to make this entire thing unnecessary.

"Mrs. Leighsworth, will you give us a moment please?" The woman nodded quickly and made one of the quickest exits he'd ever seen. Kingsley waited until the door shut after her departure and turned back to the blonde and brunette expectantly. When he was met only with hard stares from both parties he shook his head and entered more fully into the room to take a seat at the vacated desk. "If I say that I expected better from the both of you, would that reveal me as being too optimistic?"

Draco spoke first, face morphing into one of astonishment and a bit of outrage, "You _knew_?! You KNEW of all the people to get saddled together in this clown show, I would be with _HER_?!"

Hermione sneered before she could help it and added in agreement, "Yes, that would have been _very_ optimistic of you, Minister."

Kingsley turned a stern eye to their still standing forms and pointed two fingers at each chair. When they made no move to sit, he raised a thick eyebrow and fixed them both with a look that suggested he had no patience for their petulance – they sat. "Let me be honest with you both-"

"That would be a nice start," Hermione interrupted so scathingly that even Draco turned a questioning look her way.

"Let me be _frank_ with you," he altered his wording. "I'm not sure if Harry told you, either of you, but we are in dire straits as a wizarding community. These marriages and subsequent offspring will do everything to ensure that we survive and don't become just another page in a history book for other magical schools throughout the world to learn of the once great magical population that resided here."

The brunette shifted in her chair, leaning forward on the edge of her seat and planting her palms heavily on the desk, "Right. I've heard all about the bloody percentages and projected decline and our sodding extinction if we don't go on with it! I dare say that I've even come to accept this ridiculous display of antiquated laws overstepping the basic human rights of all the people involved, but you honestly expect _**THIS**_," she gestured animatedly between her and Draco, "To work in the midst of it all?! For what? For the greater good? Not bloody likely! If all the matches were this poorly made, then you've just buggered us all!"

Draco watched her ranting and raving figure, imagining this was a fraction of the same fury that she'd unleashed on the man earlier. Her huge curly head of hair seemed even bigger in her anger, like she was making herself even larger and more intimidating to her enemies like some kind of wild animal. The thought made him snort, earning a fiery glare from the woman in question. He waved her off dismissively and turned to The Minister with deceptive calm even though he was feeling just as livid, "Minister, she's right. We're more apt to throttle each other before we would stand to have children together. I mean look at her!"

Hermione made a disgruntled noise and redirected her anger to her future spouse, "Me?! If I wanted to marry a temperamental, pasty skinned snake, I would've proposed to the Bloody Baron by now!"

"_**I'M**_ temperamental?! What about you?" Draco jabbed a finger in her direction, "You're the one who's yelling at the bleedin' Minister!"

She snarled and turned back to Kingsley, "I want a divorce!"

"We're not even married yet! _Also_, another tidbit you missed in your lack of study, was that these vows are quite literally 'til death do you part'-"

"I don't care!"

Draco watched as her anger was dissolving into panic and it jerked at something deep in his chest. Seeing Granger, a woman he'd known to be tough as nails with a stone cage around her more delicate emotions, coming apart in the privacy of this musty old meeting room was something that anyone who knew her – even an old enemy in a life long past – would find unsettling.

"Miss Granger-"

"We'll put in in the books-"

Gray eyes followed her hands flailing about, illustrating her thoughts as she prattled on. The motions were getting more and more animated with every word she spat, her head shaking back and forth in a constant dismissal of the situation like she was trying to dislodge it from becoming a reality.

"Miss Granger-"

"-schedule it after we give this fucking community it's bloody baby!"

Her chest was heaving in shallow breaths, shoulders trembling and eyes beginning to water as they darted about to spaces in front of her and at her sides, never truly focusing on any one thing. Draco wasn't sure what was plowing through that mind of hers to rattle her so deeply, but bit by bit she was crumbling before him and it was becoming too much like another time in his memory a handful of years ago where he'd seen her coming apart in fear.

"HERMIONE!" Kingsley's shout shoved a firm wedge into Hermione's rambling and while he was glad to have her stop, the terrified expression facing him now was enough to make his heart stutter.

The brunette's head snapped up to meet the sympathetic gaze of The Minister, of her friend, Kingsley Shacklebolt. She hated it. She hated _this_. She hated the way he was looking at her now. He was angry, that much was obvious, but it was much more than that. There was his anger, then there was his sympathy, his regret, there was the silent wish of a man torn between what he wanted for his people and friends and what he needed to do. Hermone saw it in his eyes that he hated this as much as she did; she saw it in him this morning and she saw it in him now, and she fucking hated it. Her lips pressed together tightly, shoulders slumping as all the anger blew out of her to be replaced with a lead weight in her gut and a more insistent press of moisture at the backs of her eyes.

"I'm sorry." The Minister said solemnly, looking at them both in turn. "If there were another option, I would have sought it out already but...this is it."

There was still a tension in the air between them all but it had shifted, in that way that things sometimes did, to something much more serious. Normally, Draco would find the time to egg on Granger's distress, make a quip at her expense, something scathing but overall relatively harmless. Seeing her shaking in her chair just a few steps away from his, eyes downcast towards her trembling hands, clenching and unclenching around the folded letter there, and her bottom lip tugged between her teeth being worried to death in an almost painful looking way...even he didn't feel like it was a good time. The sight of her obvious, unhinged, and unmasked distress was something Draco instinctually found worrisome and he needed it to stop – whatever it took.

"You're sure we can't draw another name from the hat? I mean, for Granger, what about the Weas-" he caught himself, startled at how much of a conscious effort it took to correct his question, "-ley?" Draco stole a glance at the witch's face out of the corner of his eye and saw her alert again, though she seemed even more horrified at that suggestion. How...odd?

"Everything is final," The Minister answered too quickly. He fiddled with one of the folders laid out on the desk where the case worker had been before, letting the pages flutter across the pads of his fingers several times before he cleared his throat. "**I** finalized this," he paused, making sure the both of them were looking at him again when he pointed at each, "Between the two of you."

"You WHAT?" Draco was ready to yell this time, enough for the both of them, but he was halted by the Minister's hand urging that he wait. The emotional coaster that this ordeal was manifesting in him was giving him a migraine and causing his patience to dwindle.

Kingsley sighed heavily, swiping a hand over his face, sure that he was finally starting to show how haggard he was by this entire ordeal. "I think I should have done this differently from the beginning...that I should have spoken with you like this from the get go, but yes, I finalized this match. Before you ask, I didn't look at every person, it would have been too numerous a task for me to approve every one, though I did use my executive approval to review and override some of the initial decisions." Shacklebolt linked his fingers over top their paperwork, roving one of his thumbs over the other in way of a nervous habit. "The matches were made only taking into account very basic things. The things like personalities, preferences, _history_," he eyed them pointedly, "None of that was a factor. At all. _Please_ trust me...this was the best I could arrange. This was the best alternative from the original matches that I could provide...for both of you."

The blonde met his superior's gaze steadily, searching for any inkling of dishonesty or malice...or really anything aside from the genuine vibes he nearly always got from the man – he was, after all, the only one in that stupid building that seemed to think he would've made a good Auror.

Draco frowned.

Shacklebolt, for as level headed and generous as he could be, had a definite wrathful streak in him backed by power not only in name and stature, but raw magical ability as well. Those things considered, it was uncommon for him to appear so...so...so submissive in anything. Draco wasn't sure if it was just the man's soft spot for the witch to his left that brought it, or something else, but he didn't like it and he didn't like the fact that he couldn't smell even a hint of foul play on The Minister's end when he spoke about this. He was telling the truth.

That made him grimace harder.

So in their small population of options, him being paired with Hermione Granger – Queen Bee of know-it-all, utterly perfect, prudish witches land – was neither his nor her _worst_ one? This alternative match was somehow still better than whoever they'd been partnered with originally?

Their world really _**WAS**_ going to shit.

Draco urged those Slytherin gears to start spinning into action to figure some kind of way out of this lest they both go insane. Wizarding marriage vows were as serious and binding as an Unbreakable Vow with the same kind of duration. Unlike an Unbreakable Vow, though, you wouldn't fall over dead if you cheated on your spouse; if that were the case, their population would be in much more of a situation than it currently was. As it stood now, it wasn't uncommon at all for arranged Pureblood marriages to have a mistress or something floating about to keep someone satisfied while the main parties reaped the benefits of new political footholds from the bond, though the social stigma shunning adultery was still a very prominent thing.

It made him wonder...the mandate just stated that they had to _marry_ their assigned spouse and while it was also mandatory to produce offspring for repopulation, from what information they were provided thus far, there was no stipulation that the child actually had to be created with said spouse. Sure, it was assumed – what with the most 'physically optimal pairs' being drafted together – but with what paperwork the case worker shoved their way earlier before getting into the wedding specifics, he didn't recall seeing or hearing anything explicit. A loophole maybe?

While they would have to consummate the marriage and shag each other at least the once - he shuddered at the passing thought - he was sure they could come to some kind of agreement that would leave them with an acceptable solution. Granger could have whatever sorry bloke she was trying to save herself for on the side and he wouldn't have to personally be responsible for sullying the Malfoy line with a Half-Blood. He supposed they'd still have to raise it, for appearances sake, and in essence that would still be bad enough but if nothing else, he could say with a clear conscience for once that he didn't do it. That would lock him in to a loveless marriage of forced celibacy beyond the wedding night though, what with his strict 'no cheating' policy. He internally rolled his eyes at that, realizing that it really wouldn't be much different than if he had to be chained to his ex-fiancee - at least he still had his hands, he supposed.

There was no way Shacklebolt would sanction such a thing knowingly, and he had no desire to be penalized for 'not following the rules'. He needed something else that would be legally binding to allow it if it ever came into question. Something he could slip under his nose to approve so they wouldn't have to deal with negative repercussions for not popping out a mixed blood baby...

"A contract."

Shacklebolt lifted his head and granted Draco an odd look. "Excuse me?"

"A contract." The blonde repeated himself plainly, picking at the decorative buttons on the arm of his chair. "In addition to whatever other nonsense you expect us to sign off on, I want a contract that _you_ authorize and sign for us. Granger and I will draw it up, terms to abide by and do's and don't's for this little spectacle and whatnot. If you won't agree to that, I won't be contributing to this silly little baby factory law."

Hermione's eyes widened, remembering what the woman had said about non-compliance, "Malfoy, there's a fine-"

"Yeah, yeah. An increasing fine up to a maximum of 50% of our incomes. Each. I know, I was in the room when she said it. I've got more than enough money to sacrifice my current paycheck and still live comfortably without ever having to worry about the costs." Draco shot her a sidelong look, silently urging her to go with it, knowing he couldn't divulge the plan with The Minister in the room.

Apparently, she didn't catch it because she up and flipped her lid.

"That's absurd! How very '_Malfoy_' of you to only think of yourself! What about me?"

Draco rolled his eyes at her ignorance. "What about you?" He offered a cool smirk to cover his exasperation – he could still work with this, appeal to The Minister's weakness for the woman maybe.

"Draco, I can't live off of _half_ my bloody income!," she lowered her voice to a hissed whisper even though Kingsley would still have been able to hear, "You know they haven't given me that raise and they're never going to no matter how many curses I abolish in that damned room."

His expression faltered for a second, the sound of his given name coming from her was rare and it always startled him, "That's really not my problem."

Hermione huffed, "Well it's great to know that you'll take such good care of your wife! No wonder your parents had to arrange for you to be married off in the first place!"

Draco's cocky stare hardened, "At least I had plans for it. Having a little trouble finding someone to bite the bullet after the Weasel tossed you aside, love? Or did you leave him? I never was quite clear on how that all worked out, you'll have to enlighten me with the full story."

"It was mutual, you prat!"

Hermione growled menacingly at him and he felt almost relieved that she'd shrugged off that pitiful tearful disposition and was back lashing at him like the Granger he knew and thoroughly disliked.

"_**ENOUGH!**_" Kingsley's palms slammed loudly on the desk as he stood, brown and gray eyes snapping to him in an instant. "I'm disappointed in you two! I honestly did expect so much more. You're both adults now, it would do you well to act like it."

"But Minister-"

The dark man ignored Hermione's interjection and plucked a couple of thin folders from the stack in front of where he'd been sitting to toss one each in front of them. "Draft the contract, get legal to review it, and I will sign it. The terms must be agreed upon by both parties, and I will review it again personally before I allow it to come to pass...but before you go requesting anything you'll regret, you may want to look at this."

When they just looked skeptically between the folders and his face, Kingsley rolled his eyes and flipped each one open so they were met with their future spouse's profiles. Each file featured a small head shot with their basic demographics listed to the side, then below the section with their identifying information was a long list of traits that were used in the compatibility assignments. He explained that every trait had a thick, solidly inked line with a number ranging from 1 to 10 out to the right – 1 being poor and 10 being excellent. These were their ratings compared to the majority of their community's traits, anything marked between 8 and 10 were well above average, 5 and 6 were the median, and 1 through 4 were below standard. Below the solid line was a faint one that wavered and altered color from red to green. This fluctuated in accordance to whose profile it was matched against, red indicated poor compatibility in any given area and green indicated good; the more saturated the color, the more intense the rating.

Kingsley picked the top sheets from each folder and set them beside one another and tapped it with his wand. The colored lines below each trait started to shift and ripple, readjusting themselves on each page until they finally settled and The Minister motioned for them to have another look.

Hermione and Draco blinked at each other, but leaned forward to scan over the documents more thoroughly. The brunette was unable to stifle her gasp at the results and while the wizard to her side didn't vocalize his surprise, he did set his mouth in a firm line, displeased at what he saw. There were so many things on the list that were examined ranging from mental capacity to physical wellness and while there were a handful of items where the compatibilities showing were in the red, the vast majority of them were varying shades of vibrant greens.

Draco snatched up Hermione's profile page a bit angrily, glaring very hard at the little glowing green lines, "What spell did you use there, Minister? Wishful thinking?" His eyes darted across the page, examining a few choice traits with intensely glowing green lines, snorting at the implications. _'So they were compatible because they were both smart and 'symmetrical'? What a load of rubbish...'_

Hermione was scanning over the traits as well and was taken aback by how unsurprised she actually was to see so many of his mental capacity based scores marked as 9's or 10's: task assessment, reasoning, problem solving, organization - according to this he was bloody brilliant if not a bit impulsive. Several of his physical trait evaluations were in the higher ranges as well, but those were all fairly obvious. Hell, she may not like the man, but she wasn't blind or _dead _for that matter – he was as much of a physical specimen now as he was back in school, maybe even more so now that he'd come into his features. Brows furrowed, she blinked back up at Kingsley, "Minister, what kind of factors were used in determining these compatibilities? What was that incantation? _Genetikos revelio?_"

The tall man nodded, knowing that she would've picked up on that. He leaned against the edge of the desk, half facing them with his hands clasped loosely over his thighs. "Genetics, Miss Granger, as you've already probably inferred. _Science._ We've been partnered with several individuals in Muggle Britain for quite some time, trying to learn and adapt to new things. While historically, science, Muggle technology, and magic have not functioned harmoniously with one another, we have been making a great deal of progress in our efforts and this is just one of the ways it will improve all of our lives."

Hermione looked offended. "I knew you had this Muggle Science Division but I never realized how active it was going to be. I wish you would have said something more about it to me sooner, I would have liked to have some input in assessments like these. Maybe I could have been an asset to such a department prior to large things like this being rolled out to doo-" she stopped herself, glaring at at Draco as she reworded her statement, "-rolled out to _impact _our population in such a way."

"I apologize, Miss Granger. You seemed comfortable in your position here as a Curse-Breaker working with the Aurors, I didn't want to disrupt-"

Draco snorted at that, "With all due respect, Minister, Granger hates that bleedin' place."

"_Malfoy!_" She hissed, lifting his folder from the desk and smacking him on the arm with it.

The wizard grunted and when she reared back to smack him again he snatched the folder away from her and put the paper he'd been holding into it and tossed it back onto the surface in front of them. "Please. I'm not revealing anything that's not obvious. Anyone that takes a moment to look at you in that stuffy little room, hidden behind those stacks of papers going over line by line of notes and observations with bloodshot eyes that are due to roll out of your head at any minute from boredom, could see it."

"_Stop. Talking." _Hermione grit out under her breath.

Kingsley scowled at the blonde for speaking so casually and looked to Hermione's face. It was trained on Draco sternly, but it didn't seem to be out of opposition to the comment, merely embarrassment that he was bringing it to light. "Hermione," he questioned, "Is that true?"

She straightened and replied automatically, "No, Minister. _I'm fine where I'm at._" Hermione said the last with a narrowed glare at Draco, who just grunted but didn't add anything further.

The Minister watched the exchange between the two curiously. It was obvious there was a conversation that had happened between them at some point in time in regards to the matter, but evidently it was a sensitive area of discussion. As much as he actually was interested in the idea of Hermione - one of the best and brightest witches in the working force at the time _and_ a Muggle born - transferring into that division, there was a way things had to be done. He shook his head, realizing he didn't have time to get into that. It was something worth looking into, just not this minute.

Kingsley looked at the pair again and they were sharing secret looks, communicating without speaking. He was sure if they realized how in-tune with one another they were from all their years of bickering and working alongside the other, they would be absolutely livid. He cleared his throat and repeated his instructions from earlier, "Draft the contract and bring it to legal. And _don't_ give Mrs. Leighsworth any more trouble as she goes through the rest of the information with you. If I get another notice from her indicating that either of you have been causing trouble while she is trying to work, that will be the first and final warning. Understood?"

Draco and Hermione shared another dark look between them but straightened and replied in unison as though they were in school all over again, "Yes Minister."

"Excellent. I will call her back in then...you two are free to take the rest of the day from work if you need it once your appointment is through. I will let your immediate supervisors know."

With that, The Minister showed himself out of the old meeting room. Hermione's brown eyes tracked his movements beyond the rippled glass as he had a brief conversation with their case worker before letting her back in. While they still had a private moment to themselves, Hermione snatched back up both folders and a thick stack of papers and used them as a bludgeon to smack Draco in the arm repeatedly several times before he ripped them away from her again.

"What the bloody hell, woman?!"

"WHY are you always such an idiot?!"

Draco sneered, "What are you on about _now_?"

"Why did you tell him that? About my job! You said you'd never say anything! You had no right-"

"Oh come off it. You brought it up...and it's not like you were going to correct his false assumptions, so someone needed to."

"Well that's NOT your decision, nor is it your business. And anyway, I'm just fine where I'm at. I don't need to worry about trying to skip from one place to the other right now. Not with all this marriage business...and I've got far too many projects going on, I _just_ started this case on this apparently cursed bracelet, and it's far too intricate to just pawn off on someone and—why are you looking at me like that?"

One of Draco's pale eyebrows was raised in a knowing look, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Is that the mantra you repeat to yourself every day in that stuffy little broom closet to push out the thoughts of wanting to ram your wand through your eye just to make something interesting happen?"

Hermione scoffed, "There's plenty of excitement breaking curses. Why just the other day-"

"Granger," he interrupted again seriously with obvious irritation in his tone, "This compatibility shit is a load of Thestral dung, but we do have some things in common. You and I were the front runners in a war that we had no choice but to fight in. Our reasons were different but all the dangers were just the same and just as real. You and I fought for our lives on a near day to day basis after a point and once it was all said and done, we got rolled into this love-love Hufflepuff crap. We've paid our dues, we finished our educations, we became responsible adults, and we went and got ourselves some boring responsible adult-type jobs, but you don't just transition into this farse that we're living now in a piddly handful of years without residuals. You can lie to The Minister, you can lie to your friends, you can even lie to me if it pleases you, but do us all a big fucking favor and stop lying to yourself. It's just pathetic."

The brunette wanted to argue, badly, but she hesitated due to the fact that his analysis was spot on. Harry and Ron, and even to a lesser extent, Ginny got to live much the same way they had before and during the war. The boys were out, immersed in action and danger on a fairly regular basis, though not nearly as frequently as when Voldemort still lived. Ginny was enjoying her athletic career as part of the well known and loved Holyhead Harpies and she supposed that was fairly exciting. The 'in the field' danger had never been Hermione's proverbial cup of tea despite her talents, so the idea of a Curse-Breaker seemed brilliant at the time. She would research and help the boys in their efforts, just like she'd done before...though she just hadn't taken into account how much paperwork the job really involved and how little impact it would truly have on their more serious tasks and assignments.

Hermione frowned at the look Draco was giving her and briefly wondered if the things he spoke of moments ago were part of the reason he'd also wanted to become an Auror. "How are you so sure the reason that I'm unhappy is that I'm lacking the 'excitement'?"

Draco offered her a faint smirk that was a little too honest for his liking, "Because I've seen the way you carry yourself in there on days that you haven't expected me or noticed me yet...and it's the same weight I see in my shoulders and that same glazed stare I see when I check the mirror every day before coming here."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the reappearance of an apprehensive Mrs. Leighsworth.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, The Minister advised me that you are both ready to continue going over the details. Is that correct?"

Hermione blinked at the woman then back to Draco who was now picking at the fabric of his chair idly. His face was blank and stature bored, as though they didn't just have the closest thing to a heart to heart that they seemed capable of just a couple of seconds ago. She groaned and slumped back into her seat as well, grumbling, "Yes. Please, let's just get this over with..."

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**A/N: **Thanks very much for the follows and reviews thus far folks! It's nice to see some familiar faces! I haven't replied to many of the reviews yet, still trying to get some stuff written out and this next week will be very slow going with a large task load at work causing me less 'me time' hours in the day, but I hope to have the next part up this time next week. Thank you all again, I appreciate you and your continued interest!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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_**_,.-'~'-.,_,.-'~'-.,_**_

_**Knowing You**_

_**-.,_,.-'~'-.,_,.-****-**_

The couple sat staring at each other across the table in The Ministry's cafeteria, encased in the effects of a privacy spell. They chose to meet in a more public and neutral setting to keep from killing the other; so far it worked, but just barely.

It had already been four days since the announcement and while things had calmed down around the building and the city in general, there was still a great deal of tension everywhere. From what Hermione could figure, people were finding little time to panic about the new law and were panicking instead about their weddings. All the meetings had been finished on the late, _late_ evening of the third day and everyone was expected to be married within two weeks of their appointment date and signing of the Acknowledgment of Expectations. How they expected everyone to be taken care of within such a short expanse of time, Hermione wasn't sure, but as was evident with their long days of meeting with individuals, they were doing what they could to cram in as much as possible. The fact that there were already new couples floating around The Ministry as it was made her ill with the understanding that, apparently, marriage didn't hold the same significance to some as it did to her.

The blonde was sitting across from her, perusing the parchment he was given with disinterest whilst trying not to rub at his face. There was a bit of a shimmer that centered around his left eye and lip, a glamour charm, that had been used to hide the purple and green bruising and cut that came from a surprise meeting with one Mr. Ronald Weasley's fist.

Word spreads quickly around The Ministry – bunch of gossips with nothing better to do – and a beet red and fuming Ron had cornered them both in Hermione's office once he heard of her ill fate. With barely a confirmation out, he had reared back and punched the blonde before the wizard could even get a proper sneer in place. The redhead's jealousy was unmatched and even though they were separated, he still took it upon himself to act as Hermione's protector - one of the many reasons why they'd finally broken it off. To his credit, Draco recovered quickly, and through the dribbling of his own blood, he spat lewd taunts about how much he was going to enjoy keeping the Gryffindor Princess warm at night in his stead until they were practically dancing with exchanged blows.

Ron was broad and lumbered with clumsy swipes, Draco was sleek and quick, weaving and bobbing around the ginger's jabs until Hermione had come back to her senses and thrown both of them apart with a spell. She chastised them sternly, appalled at each man's behavior and willing to Merlin that the lot of them had a job come Monday morning after that display. With a stern and matronly pose, she ordered the redhead out of her office to think about what he'd just done, an order to which he surprisingly complied like a wounded hound. When Draco had something snarky to say about it, she'd whirled a violently flourished _episkey _on his busted nose and gave him an even more intense dressing down than the wizard before him. Hermione was so livid from the interaction that she urged the immediate start on working up each other's terms and she expressed quite vividly in language the blonde hadn't realized she was familiar with, much less partial to. The woman made it crystal clear that such aggressive behavior to her friends would not be tolerated in the future if he was partial to keeping his most prized male appendage in tact.

So. There they were. There she sat, staring down at the list of 'demands' that Draco had provided her. It was roughly the seventh revision he'd given after several arguments via owl since he explained his plan before parting ways prior to the weekend. In all honesty, Hermione didn't care much about the freedom it would give her to have a child with whomever she wanted – if there even was going to be such a consenting other party since everyone she knew around her age was being married off as well. The idea of her being married to one man but even potentially being intimate with another rubbed her the wrong way, but when she put names and faces to the situation, she found the idea less horrific as the minutes ticked by; as it was she tried to push thoughts of her impending wedding night to the furthest recesses of her mind lest she be in a constant state of nausea. Instead, she just favored that the contract would mean she would get to have little to no exposure to Draco with everything that was happening if she so desired. If his list was anything to go by, she was very glad for that option.

"At least one house elf, first child to be named after a constellation or heavenly body, wedding band must be the Malfoy family ring- what kind of nonsense is all of this?"

Draco was looking over her newest list himself and didn't even bother raising his head with his reply, "It's not nonsense, it's tradition, save for the first one, that's just bloody common sense. If we have to go through the marriage bit, even if we don't have a child together, we have to keep up appearances." He snorted and tossed her list back at her, "Besides, my list isn't any worse than these ludicrous demands."

She gave an affronted scoff, "Ludicrous? Which part is ludicrous? My _**terms**_ are perfectly reasonable, just as the rest of my requests made to you are on a regular basis!"

"You're hardly what I would define as reasonable. I mean look at this! You want me to live in a Muggle neighborhood? You want to grant access to our new home to the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio plus one She-Potter? How is _any_ of this reasonable?"

Hermione blinked at him. _'Was he serious?'_

"What?" He snapped, his face set in a stern and unhappy look.

"I want you to say that again out loud and listen to how stupid you sound," she replied flatly. "Let's try a bit of logic and work through each of those that you have issues with, shall we? First, yes, I want to live in a Muggle neighborhood. Why is that unreasonable?"

Draco gave her a serious look of disbelief, "Really? Granger..._me_ in a Muggle neighborhood. Also, we're not Muggles. Why the hell would we live with them?"

"_Because_ when our marriage reaches the front page of The Prophet – and it WILL – do you really want to be so close to this community then? Regardless of whatever agreements we make on and off the books, Malfoy, we won't be received well by anyone. There may be a whole mess of other things going on, but these witches and wizards gravitate towards the juiciest gossip there is, ESPECIALLY in times of stress." She tried to keep the offended tone out of her voice within the confines of their magically silenced space. They still had half a day to go and she couldn't make it if she was bursting vessels already at his arrogance.

He rolled his eyes, "Whatever. I'm used to the bad publicity and being hounded by reporters and activists by now. It makes no difference to me what your little goody-good fan club and supporters want to send my way. I can afford a home wherever the fuck we please, why should we go through the hassle of living with them and trying to hide?"

Hermione noticed again this time, when he referred to Muggles he kept saying 'them' and seemed to completely disassociate her with 'them'. "What about me?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow and stopped fiddling with the napkin by his lunch plate. "What are you talking about?"

"Honestly? Have you forgotten I AM Muggle-born?"

"Of course not! How could I?" He shouted but regained himself before continuing, "That's part of the bloody reason we're creating this contract in the first place-"

"Yes, yes, yes," she waved him off, finding less and less time to be bothered by what lingered of his bigotry these days, "So I don't 'sully your good blood' and whatall. In that same vein, don't you think that there may be a negative reaction to me marrying into your family from some..._purists_?"

He blinked. No. No, actually he hadn't thought of that. He was so used to everyone attacking him for everything he'd ever done wrong in his entire life that he never considered the other side of it. Draco was just sure he was going to be attacked for ruining everyone's most beloved war heroine with his 'dark influence', he'd not thought about her being affected the purists at all. He blinked again and looked at her – _really looked at her __now__ –_ and realized that she actually looked very apprehensive. It would have been hardly noticeable to anyone that spent little time in her company, to them she was probably the same old frigid bitch that she usually was...but _he_ could tell.

Draco saw it in the corners of her eyes where they tightened with anxiety, in the barest twitch at the edge of her mouth, the way she sucked in a bit of her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled at it, the faintest little flutter of her blouse that indicated she was bouncing one of her feet below the table – if he didn't know any better, he might have thought she was- "_**Scared**_, Granger?" It was an easy dig.

Hermione scoffed immediately, "Of course not! I just want as little hassle as possible in my day to day, is all."

Draco frowned. She was. She was scared.

Did she think that a slew of crazy blood purists were going to pop out of the woodwork and come to take her away?

Well...he supposed that wasn't entirely impossible considering that **_did_ **actually happen only a few years ago and she _**was** _at some point abducted, tortured, and bleeding out on his parents' drawing room floor by just such a fanatic because of her associations and dirty blood-

"Fine...but it has to be a big house." His answer left him before he could stop it.

"S-sorry?" Hermione stuttered at his acceptance, shocked by its suddenness. "Did you just agree to one of my terms? Just like that. After roughly half a week of back and forth, we finally have something agreed upon?"

The blonde folded his arms, "Don't get excited. There are several more left to go through." He waved at her and her list again, "Come on then, woman. Let's get on with this. We've wasted four days already, we need to get this damn thing finished and to the Minister and still have a wedding on top of that. Chop chop."

Hermione frowned, "About that-"

"What _now?_"

"Since YOU brought it up...a-are we having an actual wedding or are we just getting married before the court?"

Draco eyed her, ran his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully and leaned back in his seat. After a significant pause, he shrugged, "Does it matter? I would have thought you, being Miss Practicality as well as the President of the I-Hate-Draco-Malfoy Fan Club, would want a court wedding."

Hermione stared hard at the list in her hand, eyes downcast but her focus elsewhere. She would have loved to have a real wedding. She'd always wanted a quaint Summer or Fall wedding, something outdoors with some vibrant flowers and a lovely bouquet. Not a lot of people, just ones close to her heart, her friends, her family, mostly her parents—her mouth went dry. She coughed to cover the sharp gasp that escaped and she nodded hurriedly. "A court wedding is fine."

The blonde tilted his head and was opening his mouth to say something snide, until he saw the fine tremble in her shoulders and the familiar mist gathering in her eyes. He sighed inwardly. It was far too early to deal with an emotionally distraught Granger and he never did well actually seeing women cry; it struck a chord in him that pulled the most chivalrous reflex in his body into action every time no matter how hard he fought it. He'd often brought her very close in their squabbles of years past, but he never had to actually bear witness to it – usually he'd just strut off long before it ever escalated _t__hat_ far.

The witch composed herself quickly, just as though the slip in demeanor had never happened, and she plowed onward. "I won't wear the ring though. Even if this is a mandatory function, I deserve something for me, not some dusty old relic passed from Pureblood to Pureblood over the course of history. If it's from your family, I'd almost expect it to cut my finger off if I wore it anyway."

Draco growled through a clenched jaw, "It's an _antique _AND it's tradition. You have no bloody respect for such a thing, do you?"

"It's your tradition, not mine. Where I come from, how I was raised, marriage is something special and unique and not just some arrangement for land, money, or power!" Hermione sat forward in her seat, her foot had stopped bouncing in nervousness some time ago, "AND if you haven't noticed, _our_ engagement isn't particularly 'traditional'!"

He felt himself growing warm, a flush turning his neck pink at dealing with this woman; that is, until an idea slithered its way into his head. They stared at each other across the lunch table, unblinking and unwavering, until his glare finally lessened in intensity and he flashed her a sly smile, her gaze narrowed in response. "Fine," he drawled, conceding to another demand, "You want something unique. I'll get you something...unique."

"Not cursed." Hermione didn't know why she felt the need to say it aloud, but with the way he was looking at her, she thought it best to cover all her bases. "I won't have you giving me some set of cursed jewels!"

"You're so thick," Draco snorted, "As if I would attempt something so dim-"

"Tell that to Katie Bell. Such a thing does seem to be in your repertoire," she replied haughtily but even as the words left her mouth, well before the corresponding scowl darkened his features, she regretted it. _'Bollocks.'_

The gray of his eyes deepened, they were the gathering of clouds before a heinous storm, the kind that knocked over houses and tipped trees and lamp posts and things. His voice was gravelly and low, any humor that had tinted their earlier jabs was completely and utterly dismissed. "Watch your fucking mouth, Granger, or I may reconsider." Draco worked to collect his things, scooping papers into a folder and not even bothering to waste a sneer on her this time, "You'll get your unique fucking rings. I'm done with you for now, I've got some real work to do that's more important than this bullshit. Try not to choke on the rest of your lunch and make all this effort useless, _love_."

Hermione watched the wizard turn on his heel with his belongings, leaving her with his list of terms and his half eaten lunch tray to dispose of. She groaned and massaged at her temples. Here, she spouted tolerance every day, in every thing she bothered doing, she chirped about equality and equal opportunity and fair chances and second chances...and there she went, just shoving shit like that back in his face. Sure, Draco egged her on plenty of times about plenty of things from their past together, some less pleasant than others. Even in that, though, there seemed to be a fine, unspoken line about what material was simply off limits. She didn't bring up the things he did under the service of Voldemort and he hadn't called her a Mudblood since they were in school.

The stress of this all was dropping her lower than she'd been in a good long while. She groaned again and rubbed at her face, chastising herself internally. _'__Good job Hermione. That will most assuredly make everything just that much easier...fucking idiot__.__ Wait,'_ her head shot back up and she blinked in the direction he'd stomped off in, '_Did he say __**rings**__?_'

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Draco was reclining in his overly posh executive desk chair, one neatly pressed trouser leg crossed over the other as he examined some proposals when a sharp knock interrupted his thoughts. When he looked up and saw the garbled outline of a huge bushy head of hair he rolled his eyes and tossed them aside.

"Come in Granger," he called.

Hermione cautiously cracked open the door, peering around the edge. "How did you know it was me?"

"There are only two other witches that I know of that have such a dramatic silhouette for their hair alone, one's dead and the other is probably too occupied reading tea leaves to have any cause to visit me. Call it an educated guess." He sat upright, hands folded over his desk calendar and addressed her coldly, "What can I do for you?"

_Bitch._

She sighed and let herself in the rest of the way. Hermione didn't make a habit of seeing him often, mostly because he rubbed her the wrong way, but also because she may have been just a touch envious of the fact that his office was easily three times the size of hers and much more finely furnished. "I wanted to go over the rest of your list...if that's alright. You were right, we need to finish it out before too much longer before we run into the deadline and have everything else to worry about right then as well."

Draco shrugged, "I suppose. It's not like these proposals are due with any urgency or anything."

Hermione took a seat across from him, "Sarcasm?"

"No," he replied in the same tone, then at her narrowed glare he rolled his eyes again, "_Yes_. These need to be done by the end of the day. Can it not wait until after work at least?"

"After work?" She looked horribly surprised as though he'd just grown a new head. "You want to meet with me...outside of here?" _Unsafe. Unsafe unsafe unsafe._ The word kept rolling through her mind.

At that Draco turned her own glare back on her, "Want to? No. Need to, perhaps." When her eyes grew rounder he sighed in exasperation, "For Merlin's sake, Granger, we're going to be married! Seeing you outside of the office may just happen once or twice going forward, you know?" If she couldn't spot the sarcasm dripping from his words now, she was a lost cause.

He was right. Shit, he was right. For some reason, there was still a huge disconnect between what they had to do and what that really meant for their current relationship. Her mind started racing and overheating, going through the mental images zipping through it at having to actually see him _**every**_day, sharing a house, sharing a bathroom, sharing a bed-

"Granger?"

She squeaked – _SQUEAKED_ – in surprise when he called to her. "No!"

A sculpted blonde brow lifted.

"No," she said again, much more calmly, smoothing clammy hands over her robes to remove the excess moisture. "This won't take long. I've reviewed your list and already written in my counter proposals and compromises I'm willing to make."

"How magnanimous of you," he took the paper when she offered it, "I'm sure this won't take long at all what with how willing you are to go along with anything I've ever said."

"Just read the bloody list, will you?" Hermione snapped, "We can go over what still doesn't look good and do the same with mine."

Hermione sat wringing her hands together, willing herself not to back down from some of the things she'd noted she would accept. After their spat earlier, she tried to bury herself in her work at the office, but found her conscience shouting rather nasty things at her for the way they left off. It would be a bold-faced lie to say that some of the compromises she'd listed weren't made out of guilt, but in the greater scheme of things, she didn't think they would be THAT awful. At least she hoped they wouldn't be...

The short stint of silence in the room while Draco read over the notations was heavy and thick. When he finally slid his stare back to her saying nothing, she broke first under the awkward weight of it. "What?"

"You're fucking with me." It wasn't a question.

"What?"

"I said, you're fucking with me." Draco repeated himself with irritation evident, sliding the paper to her and planting a finger on one of the lines, "This. I don't believe this for a second."

Hermione leaned over to see which item he was doubting, not surprised in the least when she read over it herself. She steeled her courage and shook her head, "I mean it."

"Bullshit. Look, if you're not serious, I really do have some fucking work to do, so if you'll-"

"On my _wand_, Malfoy."

The blonde's body froze, gray orbs searching her for lies, like she knew he did with everyone when they spoke to him. He was stealthy about it too. It was only in the way his cheeks hollowed and the tiniest twitch in his jaw ticked at the possible offense. When the muscle in his neck shifted, indicating his tongue was no longer pressed to the roof of his mouth along within his clenched jaw, she knew he'd accepted her word as it was.

Draco gave her another once over and lifted his wand from its spot nearby to flick at his office door, casting a few wordless spells to lock and silence the area. "Fine, let's get this done with then." He retrieved Hermione's list from his satchel where it had been sitting forgotten since lunch and began combing through it, quill in hand to mark and note much as she'd done.

Hermione fidgeted in her seat, her discomfort growing by the minute with only the scratching of Draco's writing to fill the silence. Finally, she just couldn't take it anymore. "Malfoy." She was startled when his eyes snapped up to her and the scratching noise halted abruptly, the echo of her voice so loud in the room. Hermione cleared her throat a couple of times, the words thick on her tongue under his scrutiny, "Um..." She mumbled, "I'm...sorry."

The witch glanced up at his critical stare and back down to her hands just as quickly. There were another set of seconds that ticked by before Draco grunted and resumed his scribbling. Just like that it was like the tension drained from the room and Hermione allowed herself a small, quiet sigh.

That was about as good as it was going to get.

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"I'll kill him. I'll bloody murder his face off!"

"Murder his—Ronald, honestly! Will you just calm down?"

Hermione had stopped trying to chase after the redhead's pacing form some time ago, it's not like he had much room to pace in her office anyway. She just sighed in irritation and perched on the edge of her desk near Harry who gave her a little shrug and slung an arm around her shoulders briefly for a squeeze before folding his hands back in his lap to watch also. Her decision to inform the two of them about the contract seemed like a good idea at the time. She hadn't even explained its true purpose, just posing it as extra protection in the unpleasant reality that would be her life to come.

The boys seemed to be very receptive to the idea of her having an extra indemnity plan in place for the forced marriage to the obnoxious Slytherin to provide her securities not explicitly stated within the standard marriage vows – _just in case_. That was, until they realized that it went both ways and there were tasks and things to be impressed upon her as well for Draco's benefit. Harry had his own freakout at the idea, but it was short-lived and paled in comparison to the other man's explosive tantrum.

Unlike Ron, _he_ would actually listen to reason and came down off the ledge.

Unlike Ron, he had a better grasp of the magnitude of the situation at hand and understood her position of compromise.

_Unlike Ron_, he had solid, unwavering faith in the witch's judgment and abilities, and though he hated the thought of everything happening, if she assured him she would be alright, he would trust her until he felt it was appropriate to intervene.

"But it's MALFOY, 'Mione! MALFOY! How can you agree to any of it?!"

The brunette hid the curl of her lip at the nickname and blew out yet another annoyed breath. When he behaved so childishly, she mentally counted her blessings at the bullet she dodged. "Because which part about this law insinuated I had a choice? If you can point it out to me, I'd really appreciate having a look-see."

Ron grunted at her snark and flung his arms up in the air dramatically, "Not the law! This bleedin' contract that HE is making you sign. I don't trust him. He's nothing but a scheming, conniving, plotting, rodent!"

"I'm flattered by the nod to my cleverness, Weasel. Even if it is in the most rudimentary form of unimaginative synonyms tucked within a poor attempt at an insult. But now, I'm afraid that _Hermione_ and I have a date with The Minister, so if you'll get your large, gangly barricade of a body out of the way to let my fiancee through, we'll just be on our way."

"Malfoy?" Hermione's eyes shot to the doorway in surprise, he was early. Her bum slid off the desk with the intention to-well she wasn't really quite sure what she was intending to do about him, but he was neither wrong in his sudden statement, nor unexpected. It mattered little, however, since Ron was there first, up in the wizard's face. As usual.

"I don't think so, _ferret_." Ron snarled, barely taller than the blonde but using his broad frame to puff himself up menacingly.

Draco gave him a condescending and disinterested examination, eyes roving from the top of his red head down to his muddied boots and back to settle on his freckled face. He very coolly allowed a polite smile to tilt his lips, the kind that can only be expressed by someone who had the utterly fake gesture drilled into them from a young, impressionable age, and straightened. "Now, now, Weasley...as much as I would like to pick up where we left off last week, as I said before...we have a date. Hermione. And I."

A growl trickled from the redhead's grit teeth and he clenched his fists until his knuckles were white from the pressure. "What are you _really_ planning with this?" The wizard indicated his meaning with a hard knock of the file the man was holding, satisfied when he set some of the papers loose and a tiny box the wizard had also been carrying tumbling towards the tiles.

Draco's pompous stare hardened at the shove. His free hand darted out to catch the box that'd been set on top of their copies of the contract with reflexes sharper than they'd ever been on the pitch at school. The role reversal of him being bullied by this insignificant speck of a wizard made his hackles rise and he was about to retaliate in kind when his eyes caught the big brown ones focused on the scene, readying herself to get involved. _No_. A much better idea than slugging the Weasel entered his mind and he smiled at his unwilling fiancee, a real one that was filled with a sick sense of pleasure at what he was about to do.

Hermione frowned in response, thinking he was going to recreate the scene from this time last Friday. Growing tired of dealing with these two men who seemed to be leaking testosterone from their ears and thoroughly unsettled by the way Draco kept referring to her by her first name, she brandished her wand and stepped forward threateningly. "Ronald! That was completely uncalled for!" She pointed to her fiance, "And you, don't you forget what I told you!"

"Oh don't worry love, I haven't forgotten a thing."

Charmingly – oh so charmingly – Draco offered her another smile and refocused all of his attention to the brunette ahead after shoving the files at the nearby Potter who came forward as well as though he were to interject in some helpful fashion. Taking hold of her outstretched left hand he tugged it just firmly enough that she came the rest of the way with it looking flabbergasted at the fact he was touching her. He was doing his best not to cringe at the feel of her fingers curled over his own, even going so far for his performance as brushing his lips across the backs of her knuckles in the semblance of a kiss.

Draco did very well and didn't even flinch or gag _once_.

The witch's jaw dropped at his display, her thoughts coming to a screeching halt the moment her flesh met with his. The first seconds were filled with a tactile analysis of his grip: _warm, calloused, firm._ Next came the realization of who was touching her and with impeccable timing, his mouth danced over her skin as she was trying to retrieve her hand – _soft, moist, smooth_. That moment froze her insides. She was stunned by the strangeness, shocked by gesture, and frankly, embarrassed by the attention. The nauseating flutter in her stomach didn't help any either. When his mirth filled silver gaze met hers again, she snatched her hand away, remembering exactly who she was dealing with in the blink of an eye.

He was close now, encroaching on her space, and like usual she gave him no ground, hissing lowly, "What are you playing at Malfoy?"

Draco tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear in mock affection, leaning in to whisper back and delighting in the way it would look to the two other men in the room, "Just upholding a portion of my agreement and having one last spin before I sign my life away and can't have fun with these buffoons anymore."

Hermione jerked away from the hot breath tickling across her ear and neck and the unpleasant shiver it produced. "What do you-"

He stepped back and popped open the black box in one smooth movement, revealing to the witch what he had planned to shove at her after the signing of their paperwork to mark off the easiest of his tasks. "Here you are, _darling_. I was saving it for later, but seeing as how Weasley just so happened to spoil the surprise...something _unique_. Just for you."

The brunette peered into the white satin lined ring box like it were dangerous – understandably so, since the vast majority of jewelry she looked at with any kind of frequency _**was**_. She took in the strange saturated coloration of the glittering stone in its setting, cycling through the possibilities of what it was until she came to the answer at a slow, rolling stop like one of those prize wheels on a daytime game show, chocolate orbs going wide.

Ron snorted, barging his way next to where the confrontation had moved to as he, too, looked at the ring. He spared a look to his friend and fellow Auror, who didn't seem to understand what was so special about it either aside from maybe the large-ish size of the rock before mouthing off again, thinking to take Draco down a peg. "Looks like your diamond is tarnished there, Malfoy."

"I-it's not a diamond..." The witch corrected him breathily. All the resistance left her as she mentally flipped through her massive stores of knowledge at the sight of the stone with a hunger that begged her to examine it much more closely to see if all she'd read about such a stone were really true.

Ron's look turned from smug to confused at Hermione's astonished tone, not liking the way this was turning out, not at all. He looked to Harry again who caught his stare this time and shook his head even as worry was creeping into his own face.

"Diamonds hang onto curses far too well, Weasley, they're practically made for them. I mean, have you even noticed how many of the cursed jewelry pieces you've stomped in here with have been peppered with them? For Hermione's line of work that would be an ill thought gift indeed." Draco chastised the witch's ex-boyfriend while extracting the ring from its spot and coaxing Hermione's left hand back up, noting it'd grown clammy. He allowed himself a triumphant smirk when she didn't flinch away from him sliding the engagement ring onto her finger, eying it with intense fascination instead. Her reaction to the rock was exactly as he predicted it would be. It was just as well, too. It would make the reveal of the wedding bands he'd ordered all the more satisfying later - a wicked smile curled his lips.

Harry piped up, less concerned with the pissing contest between his mate and old school rival than he was curious at the witch's amazement. "What is it, Hermione?"

"_Alexandrite_," it was a reverent whisper that held just a hint of the woman's scholarly edge.

Hermione licked her lips and muttered a quick _lumos,_ watching the mingling red and green swirl of color in the gemstone fade under the light of her wand and shift to a glittering red shade instead. Her brow furrowed and, forgetting the three men in the room, she wrenched her hand away from Draco again to scramble to her tiny window. Snatching the dusty curtain aside, Hermione flung the panes open and stuck her hand out into the sunlight where the color slowly shifted again, this time back through the mixed shade then to a deep green. She gasped and snatched her hand out of the sun and moved back into the room, missing Draco's overly smug look and Harry and Ron's confused exchanging of glances.

"_Natural_ alexandrite," Draco hummed, surprisingly pleased with himself at the woman's reaction. He knew she would understand its rarity and value immediately. "Three carats to be exact."

The boasted number didn't seem to mean much of anything to Harry or Ron, but Hermione's eyes were finally pulled away from the stone and latched onto his sly smirking visage. "_THREE carats?!"_

The wizard nodded, leaning against Hermione's desk with his eyes focused on Weasley's face, anticipating his reaction.

"Of _natural_ alexandrite?" She was back to focusing on the gem, watching how it sparkled richly and transitioned back to the previous mixed swirl of reddish green.

"Yes, love." Draco's purr was patient and he grinned at the red flush that was taking over the ginger man's ears as his thick skull was processing that this ring was actually kind of a big fucking deal.

"In...in a...this is platinum." Not a question.

Draco allowed himself a little chuckle, forgetting his spiteful agenda for the briefest of moments in the face of her utter childlike astonishment at receiving the ring. It was like she'd never been presented with a gift before.

"_Yes_. Three carats of natural alexandrite in a platinum setting and platinum band. I think the color suits you better than that awful gold jewelry I used to see you wearing. I apologize the stone is a bit small...but I didn't figure you would want it much larger." His declaration while buffing his nails against his expensive shirt was just the right amount of haughty and the right amount of humble to infuriate her ex. The subtle jab at the baubles the Weasel used to get her was lost on the woman but hit home on the red faced, red haired Auror glaring daggers from just a few feet away.

Hermione processed everything through her head again, tallying up the cost and clutched her newly adorned hand to her chest, jerked it away to look at it again, then moved it back to her chest looking stricken. "The deep color of the stone...the the...the luster...with the metal, this must be worth nearly 2000 Galleons at LEAST! Malfoy! Oh my-Merlin, that's too much. I can't accept this! H-here, no you have to return this, I can't-"

_'What?'_ Draco's smug satisfaction blew out of him. "Return it?" He uncrossed his arms and legs from where he was leaning against her desk and made his way to her, stilling her hands forcibly as she was about to peel the ring from its spot. His pride was on the line in front of the Aurors, but more noticeably that strange lurching tug in his chest propelled him forward. "I can't _return_ it, Granger. It was custom cut and set. This is _yours_. It was quite literally _made_ for you."

It was his turn to look at her like she was growing extra appendages at the way she blanched and swooned and teetered on her feet like something just poked her hard in the forehead. Potter and the Weasel made a jump towards her as if to brace her fall but he was already there and gripped her firmly at the shoulders to settle her into the worn chair nearby. Normally, Draco would have delighted in her dismay and rubbed it in her face, but he was utterly baffled by this display. He'd never had a woman respond to trinkets like _this_ before – in fact it was really a modest expression of his money. Fact of the matter was, the ring cost well over 5000 Galleons in no small part from the specific colors, color depth, and speed at which it was procured alone and that was still a fraction of the kind of jewels someone like Astoria would've demanded.

"'Mione!" Ron rushed to her side, shoving past the blonde again and kneeling before her. When he took up her hands they were icy and chilled and her eyes were huge, "Are you alright?! Malfoy, what the hell?! Did you give her a cursed stone? I swear to Godric, I'll break your snotty git face if you've done anything to her!"

Draco rolled his eyes, observing Weasley trying to snap the woman back to her senses and failing, "Bleedin' hell, why does this even keep coming up? You Gryffindors need to get new fucking material. I didn't do anything but give my future _wife_ a fucking present." His patience was thinning and he took great pleasure in the way the man fumed each time he insinuated any kind of social intimacy to the witch in question.

"Well after what happened with Ka-"

"Ronald enough!" Hermione's sharp command halted the Auror's insult mid-sentence. Her voice was sudden and loud over the banter of the two but shaky, still recovering from her mild shock. "I'm f-fine. Really. I'm fine." She stated more gently, peeling her hands from Ron and offered a watery smile that was wholly unbelievable. "We need to see The Minister, just...come on, Malfoy, let's just get this done with."

Ron watched her move past him with the most sour expression on his features that zeroed in on the blonde who's gaze followed after the witch curiously. He let her take the lead, waiting until she was halfway through the department – wobbly on her feet and clenching her hands very stiffly at her sides – before he growled and shoved Draco again. "Listen ferret, I want to know what the fuck you think you're doing."

Draco moved with the push, only slightly startled by the continued manhandling, but making a very concerted effort to not drop the redhead where he stood and lose all the bragging ground from the show he'd put on thus far. Straightening smoothly and pocketing the ring box once again, he flashed the man an arrogant smirk. "Haven't the slightest what you're referring to, _mate_."

The ginger stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides, mouth already open and ready to say something else but Harry reappeared with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Both wizards looked surprised to see the dark haired Auror standing there, having completely forgotten about him in the midst of their argument. "Leave it."

Ron bristled, "What?"

"I said _leave it_, mate. He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Hermione can take care of herself."

The redhead sneered at his friend, roughly shrugging the hand off his shoulder. "_Really?_ You too?! Whatever." Ron scoffed and stormed out of Hermione's office, tromping loudly like an angry child.

Draco let his own sneer decorate his features now that it was just the two of them there. "I suppose you want some kind of a thank you?"

Harry didn't respond to that, just handed the files he'd still been hanging onto back to the blonde. "I may not know what it is you're trying to get out of all of this, Malfoy, but that's my best friend you're screwing with."

"I'm fully aware you're butt buddies with the Weasel, Potter, now if-"

"_**NOT**_ Ron. Hermione." Cold, hard emeralds glared at Draco from behind the round framed lenses. "I don't know what you're doing and I don't need the details. She has no choice but to be paired with your slimy ass in all of this. She's smarter than you. She's tougher than you. She's been through more than someone like you will ever understand. But things like that...like you just gave her...things like that mean a lot to Hermione. I'll tell you once and if you don't listen, it's on you: Do. Not. Fuck with my friend. If you do – if you _hurt_ her – I'll be freeing up her options in accordance with the til death do you part portion of your vows." He turned to leave the wizard with those thoughts, pausing in the doorway to look at him once again _very_ seriously, "And no one would ever question it when I'm through with you." With that, Harry turned to follow after the redhead to do some damage control.

Draco watched the man leave, a fine eyebrow raised as he wondered to himself who that man with the brass bollocks was and what the hell he'd done with Harry Potter. Glancing at the clock on Granger's shelf, he cursed under his breath, all this dick measuring was going to make them late – he _hated_ being late.

With significant haste, Draco powered after the witch who was waiting and fidgeting by the lift doors. She never even turned to acknowledge him at her back, simply called the lift at the sound of his approach and once it arrived they entered the empty car awkwardly.

Inside, Hermione stood at the front, shoulders tilted inwards a bit and she had both hands in front of her. By the shifting of her arm, Draco gathered she was trying to be discreet about continuing to examine the stone on her finger. He thought he heard a small muttered noise come from her direction. "Pardon?"

Hermione jumped. She was startled that he apparently heard her mumble, having half hoped he wouldn't but having felt compelled to speak the words regardless. She composed herself and turned her head slightly to peek at him from the corner of her eye. "Thank you. This wasn't part of the contract...so thank you."

Draco hid his surprise well, even if he couldn't keep the sarcasm from leaking out of him still. "A thank you? From Her Royal Highness, Queen Bookworm?" He hummed in amusement, "Careful Granger, I might get the impression that you don't hate me. THEN where would we be? I'm not entirely sure what I'd do with myself if such a travesty were to occur."

Turning forward again, Hermione focused on the modest scenery of floors and hallways passing by on the way to the top level. She'd heard the man at her back snort at her gesture and had expected as much. Her focus hadn't pulled from the glittering gem on her finger as she turned it round and round, its weight comfortable and disturbing at the same time. The stone was delicate yet bold and the changing light sources kept subtly rolling its color between the two extremes. "Why?"

The blonde tilted his head to one side in a birdlike fashion. It wasn't so much at the question itself, but the _way_ she'd said it. The one word was cautious, curious, maybe even a little frightened, but he'd so seldom experienced that emotion from the woman that it was hard for him to confirm the last. Potter's words rolled around in his head. He hardly thought the wizard would actually hunt him down...but still...one did not get sorted into Slytherin house because you garishly pursued a death threat once it was issued. He would play more carefully. "Can a man not buy his woman pretty things?"

Hermione chuckled humorlessly. "Maybe if it wasn't you and I." She turned around to face him, giving him a good and clear look of her face, knowing very well she likely looked as exhausted as she felt. "I'm not an idiot, let's not stand here pretending that that particular crown fits snugly on either of our heads. Of my terms, I only mentioned the wedding band, not this. I'll ask again. Why?"

Draco eyed her stubborn form: arms crossed, hip jutting to one side, and tired chocolate eyes locked onto his. He rocked on his feet a few times then braced his weight against the hand bar behind him. "It suits you," he stated flatly and nodded to her hand, "I don't know how your Muggle folk do it, but here, a woman doesn't get married without a proper token of affection. And since I don't particularly fancy you, this was the closest and most traditional thing."

"Tradition," Hermione shook her head, "Must it always be 'tradition' with you?"

"If there's no tradition to follow, what else is there?"

"How about doing something new? Something _different_?" She snapped irritatedly, her voice loud in the lift finally nearing its destination. Hermione faced the door once again, rubbing away a chill on her right arm with her left, "Don't lie to me."

"Lie? I gave you a reason-"

"I mean it," she hissed over her shoulder, "If there's anything you've ever done for me that all these other people around me haven't, it's been honest. Like I said, I'm not an idiot. You evade. You omit. You tell half truths when it suits you...but you don't shove these bold faced lies at me to make our interactions easy. You've always had something to say about exactly what you think of me from what I say to things I do to how I look. It's not in our contract, but I would at least like to know I can count on you for _that_ much."

Draco grimaced, running through every past scenario he could think of off the top of his head to see if she was right. When he realized that he couldn't pull any good example of him doing the contrary, his displeasure increased. He _did_ make a point of telling her - truthfully - exactly what he thought of anything and everything involving her if it came up, all for one simple reason: the truth had a way of being much more damaging than a lie.

Lies are things you told to people you cared about to spare their feelings or make them feel better or get an edge on. Granger had never been a woman he'd really felt compelled to protect and she was clearly inferior to him so the last didn't apply either. He opened his mouth to reply and toss the biggest, fattest lie her way if for no other reason than to piss her off, but the words wouldn't form on his tongue and when he realized why, he wanted to throttle the woman for ever pointing this out.

Lies were things you told to people you didn't respect.

Somewhere along the line, he'd developed a begrudging respect for the witch who was now stepping through the opened doorway without waiting for him to follow. With an angry sneer, Draco hurried to fall into step at her side down the hall to The Minister's office with only minutes until their appointment.

"Have I mentioned yet today how much I hate you, Granger?"

Hermione didn't bother turning her head, nodding to the secretary at the reception counter that allowed them to pass without hassle. "Not yet."

Draco caught her wrist roughly before her knuckles had a chance to knock on the door, turning her hand so they could both see the teardrop shaped gem. "It suits _us_."

She was confused at first but then took a real moment to watch the colors swirl and mingle in the stone. Red...and green. The two colors pushed and pulled, waxing and waning, fading and brightening. They both fought for dominance in the different lights and occasionally one would overcome the other, but for most times they would just butt against the other in a sort of limbo, restless in their pursuit to glow and outshine their opposite.

Hermione was still staring when she realized that Draco had since knocked and they were being beckoned inside and he was now looking to her coldly as he held the door open. She arched an eyebrow at him and loosed a soft grunt, "I suppose it does."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**Slight Warning:** Slight reference to the _idea_ of non-con in this one and it's relatively minor in actual mention. Nothing explicit as, where there are many things that are not off limits for me, that is typically one of them that is. Also...this one's kinda long, but I didn't really want to chop it, so the next one may take a bit longer than normal to get up.

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_**Knowing You**_

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Kingsley set the paperwork down gently in front of him, sitting upright in his chair and folding his hands before him on the desk. The silence between the three of them was not wholly uncomfortable but there was a fine line of tension in the air. He cleared his throat and leaned back again, "Everything seems to be in order. I just have a few questions about some of these terms."

"Of course Minister, ask away." Draco smiled charmingly, knowing that the man would have questions and trying to be confident that he worded the important portions so delicately that they wouldn't reveal their true intentions.

"Housekeeping duties such as maintenance cleaning, meal preparation, yard work and the like will be split fifty-fifty between the two of you and you will be choosing a residence within a _Muggle_ neighborhood with limited magic use?" The Minister blinked hard at the witch first but was rewarded with her stock straight posture and unwavering nod. He raised a dark brow and looked at the wizard then, "Mister Malfoy? You're agreeing to living with Muggles and doing housework?"

Draco smoothly kept his smirk in place, running his tongue along the inside edges of his teeth in irritation before speaking, "Yes Minister. A house elf was not an option with the former founder of S.P.E.W. on my arm and being in a low-key Muggle neighborhood will keep us out of the limelight. Or at least it will make it more difficult for the press to find us when the inevitable announcement of the two of _us_ coming out as a married couple makes it to the papers."

Kingsley nodded reasonably, even though his suspicion was still clear. "Miss Granger. It says here that you will continue working once married," he glanced at Draco, knowing the young man's upbringing meant that the women of his family typically were not to maintain 'menial' working tasks, "But that Mister Malfoy will provide for living expenses such as housing, utilities, and food. _You _are...alright with this?"

Hermione's jaw ticked at his obvious skepticism, not as skilled at hiding her distaste at these compromises as her partner. Even the most vague insinuation that she was to become a stereotypical homemaker made her bristle. She had to fight to get Draco to sign off on her working and the price to pay was that he would literally pay for practically everything.

She wasn't an invalid. She wasn't a damsel in distress. She could provide for her own damned self, but this man and his _traditions_ were infuriating. It was the smallest victory in and of itself that she would get to see this stupid spoiled wizard mowing the fucking lawn and having to make his own bloody lunch and dinner at least half the time. She nodded.

"Yes Minister. I would rather the split be even," she said honestly, earning a sidelong glare from her fiance, "But we must make compromises in this unfortunate situation and this was the most amicable thing that we could decide on."

The sign of the woman's aggravation and honesty actually lessened some of The Minister's doubt at the whole arrangement, especially when the wizard didn't show any major signs of exasperation at her words. He looked over the list again, mumbling through it line by line, half amused by some of the items that they had to have a binding contract to agree on.

"The first heir to the Malfoy name will be named after a constellation, both parties will treat their spouse's friends and family _cordially_ if not in a friendly manner, Hermione Granger will instruct Draco Malfoy in the use and operation of applicable Muggle devices used in compliance with the divided share of housework so as to _allow him_ _a fair chance to avoid failure at his tasks_," he glanced at the pair stifling a snort, "Hermione Granger will not hyphenate her last name once married, an approved list of individuals will be allowed immediate access via Floo to your new home—I don't see a list included, was this document separate of the contract?"

Draco nodded and produced an additional piece of parchment with the legal department's raised seal stamped at the bottom. He read off the names for The Minister prior to handing the sheet over, "Harry Potter, Ginevra Potter, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Lucius Malfoy, and Narcissa Malfoy."

Draco glanced left to the woman at his side, seeing her tense at the last two names. The agreement was for two friends each and their parents to have access, with any additional access to be granted later. Hermione had argued that since she wouldn't be adding her parents to the list she should be able to include the Weasel also, to which he denied adamantly. He already had one of her friend's death threats on his head, he didn't need to give access to the other that was much more likely to actually commit the deed. Of course he had asked her why her parents wouldn't be on this list and she'd given him a multitude of excuses, none of which made any damned sense. Draco had eventually dropped the issue but not until that argument had come to a head and he'd been faced with brown eyes that were so lost and vulnerable that his heart lurched in his chest and he lost all desire to know why.

Kingsley looked over the list provided, lingering on the names but not questioning it, just frowning lightly. "One final question, a clarification if you will." The Minister recited the next clearly, folding his hands over the contract that he'd read and re-read a few times already. "_Hermione Granger will be granted the option to abstain from birthing a child with wizard, Draco Malfoy, should she declare her desires to do so with __the __understanding __of__ the penalties __of __T__he Recovery, Reconstruction, and Repopulation Act__. __In the event that the penalties are __enacted__, __Draco Malfoy will be required to provide the necessary fees associated with not producing a child under the law __for both his and her monetary responsibilities __should this __need__ arise.'_"

He watched the couple stiffen at this point and gave them a stern eye, "So basically...you've created a contract, within my law, that if I sign, will acknowledge that you two don't have to produce offspring. Even though the point of the law is to...produce offspring. Is that correct?"

Draco exhaled so subtly in relief. Just as he'd hoped, the man caught the implied offense and not the vagueness of the wording. It just said that she could abstain to have a child with _him_ if she wanted, nothing about any other wizard unfortunate enough to have to deal with her and her baggage. He'd practiced his response, if Granger stuck to her part, they were moments from freedom.

Nodding, he said, "I'm not in the business of forcing myself on a woman, Minister. We may have to marry but if she doesn't want me to bed her, I won't force her to do so. As a Pureblood citizen, these kinds of marriages are nothing new, but this isn't the normal kind of arrangement and she couldn't be any more unwilling. I'm not sure what kind of picture you all paint of me these days this high up on the seats of power, but I'm not _that_ kind of a man. Never have been."

Shacklebolt seemed surprised at the line of defense against the written term, noting the young man was fighting to keep a sneer from his face mentioning the last. He looked to Hermione, "Miss Granger, you _are_ aware that to complete the first portion of the law and seal the ceremony that you _will_ have to..."

Draco's stare shifted to the witch, they both knew she was the weak link in getting this passed because she was so emotionally invested. Hermione had her part rehearsed as well, but by the twitching in her eye, he was sure that those weren't the words about to come out of her mouth.

"_Fuck_ my husband, Minister? Boff? Shag? Have sex? No, not clinical enough for you? Oh, I've got one - _engage in coitus_. There, that's much more in line with the scheme of this whole charade, isn't it?" Her voice was a strained growl, having worked hard to contain herself this entire time, acting as though they _weren't_ discussing ruining her entire life.

_'Shit.'_

Draco looked at her with the most openly amazed look of incredulity that had ever crossed his features. If they weren't completely up shit creek then, he wasn't sure where they were. He swallowed audibly, not sure what he was supposed to do to get her on the right track now. Hell, she'd just derailed the whole bloody Hogwarts Express with that one. This is why he hated working with Gryffindors – at least Slytherins knew how to be fucking sneaky if they were going to divert from the plan.

"Miss Granger!"

"NO." Hermione stood up and walked very calmly to the large desk. She plucked an expensive looking quill from his stand and threw it at him to which he caught reflexively. "No. I wasn't aware at first. But YOU were. When you magicked your signature on every single one of those papers. Congratulations, Minister, you've decided exactly who my _**VIRTUE**_ goes to with as much regard as you give what fucking robes you'll wear for the day."

Both men were frozen in their seats looking gobsmacked at the bomb the witch just dropped on them all. It wasn't her cursing at the Minister. It wasn't her cursing at her friend. Did she really just say what they thought she'd said? Did Hermione Granger just admit to being a virgin?

Kingsley looked horrified. A small missing piece of the puzzle finally clicking into place to complete the picture of the woman's passion against this law.

Draco just looked supremely ill.

The blonde had never even considered _**that**_ possibility.

He didn't even know people still did that, saved themselves for marriage and whatnot. That chivalrous lurch in his gut pulled and churned his innards again and all thoughts of maintaining his composure fled in light of this new information. For once in a long while, he had no bloody idea what he was supposed to do. He'd come up with this script because it was the most effective way to appeal to The Minister's friendship with the woman, he'd only pretended to champion for maintaining as much of her innocence as he could, he had no idea how spot on he'd been with the ploy.

Draco took in a sharp breath of air, watching the witch's shoulders tremble as she fought to maintain herself in front of them. Her hands shook, chin and lip wobbled. The admission was hitting her harder than she'd probably thought it would.

'_No fucking wonder she was so angry about this when we were rehearsing our responses...fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.' _

How could he be so fucking blind? He'd just assumed with as serious as her and the redhead were that...

'_**F****UCK**.'_

"Granger-" The closer her breakdown came to the surface, the harder his heart was hammering in his ribcage in a panic.

'_What? What was he really to say? Sorry I'm being made to marry you and shag you against your will? Let's have some tea, surely that'll make it all better! Kisses!' _Bloody ponce..

Her arms wrapped around herself as the words bubbled up from somewhere deep in her belly, somewhere they'd been sitting heavily and festering in her gut for longer than a week...this was all just the catalyst. Hermione's hard glare was focused on the dark skinned man before her, even as she spoke to the room.

"What's the matter? The both of you look as though you've seen a ghost!" She laughed coldly, "You know...it's funny. I'd always thought this was were I wanted to be. That people like you were who I belonged with. I'd finally found some place where I thought I fit in. Where I thought I was _respected_. Then the bitter reality of your own prejudices was shoved in my face and nearly killed me in the process. But then...I thought we'd won. We fought and we WON. I thought that...I _knew _change would come, but only for the better. I thought I was a damned _**hero**_ but I can see that I'm just another casualty of war."

Hermione snatched the final page of their contract from the stack in front of her still stunned friend and slammed it down in front of him with a heavy hand.

"You can call this whatever the hell you want, _Minister_. You can stamp your seal, wave your wand, sign your papers with the most charming smile as you have in your arsenal...but there's nothing heroic about it, not like this. And I hope you've signed dozens – no _HUNDREDS_ – of papers to put this through. I hope now you'll truly think about the lives you'll forever have touched, the things that can't be replaced...and maybe think about how much they may have meant to someone that you might've once respected had they been your friend."

The implication of her last words caused his breath to hitch and Shacklebolt finally found his tongue, "Hermione...I'm sorry. I didn't.."

Her voice was quiet and even...cold. Any friendly manner she'd had before was gone. This was strictly business, after all. Her shivering hand extended steadily enough for her to press her finger to the bottom line, glare as cold as her tone.

"If you can't release me from this mandate then you WILL provide me with an option for my dignity, Minister." The way she spat his title was clear that she was long done with this.

Kingsley signed. He signed so quickly, faster than he'd ever signed anything in his life.

Following his signature, she signed her portion of it, as well as the final form within the mandate's acknowledgment paperwork. As soon as her quill lifted from the last paper, Hermione barely lingered a second and turned on her heel, furiously swiping at her eyes at the tears that had finally come. She'd fulfilled her part, even though not as planned, she was done here. She needed to leave. She needed to go. She wasn't sure where, but she couldn't be here. She couldn't sit in these walls for another four hours and pretend like her carefully plotted life wasn't crumbling down around her, splitting at the seams, exploding, and vanishing in the wind.

Draco didn't even spare a look at The Minister before he literally _ran_ after her, barely catching her at the lifts, she had moved so swiftly. He grabbed her wrist, tugging her back but she wouldn't look at him.

"You were kidding right? Back there...about...you were kidding." His own voice shook. It was hopeful and fearful all at once. Gray orbs searching her face desperately but she still wouldn't turn. She tried to tug her wrist free but his grip was iron. "Granger! You were kidding right?!"

"What do you care?!" She yelled, tear stained face glaring up at him now. As soon as he saw her, he gasped and released his grip. Hermione immediately went to rubbing at the ache in her wrist in lieu of rubbing away her tears any more than she already had. They wouldn't stop anyway, it was just as futile as everything else she'd tried to accomplish up to this point. Hermione stared up him, bloodshot and weary.

"Don't worry Malfoy," she said mockingly but her heart wasn't in it, "I don't hold you responsible. Just uphold your end of the bargain and leave me alone after...after we're married."

Draco felt the sour taste of bile in the back of his mouth while looking down at the woman in front of him and for once in his entire life, it wasn't _because of her_.

Wild curls of chestnut, once pinned neatly back, had set themselves free in her haste to escape the forever changed view of her in his and her friend's – ex-friend's? - eyes. Her normally warm complexion had paled to a sallow one, dark smudges more visible now and clinging to the hollows of her cheeks and in bags beneath her tear stained stare. Hermione's plump lips looked rough from all the gnawing she'd done to them and cracked after the moisture that came with worrying them to death had dried up.

Draco tasted that bile on his tongue and he knew it shouldn't matter.

This didn't change anything for them. The contract was signed and they would be in the clear. Besides, he didn't care about this woman like that...but he understood this.

Draco's stomach lurched again and he swallowed through the nausea.

He watched her form disappear from sight into the lift as it headed down, the little arrow above the doors showing its journey down to the Atrium.

"_...that's too much! I can't accept this!"_

It didn't change anything.

"_Thank you..."_

That look that she gave him...

"_Why?"_

It didn't change a bloody thing.

"_Don't lie to me."_

Except it changed every damned thing.

"_...I can count on you for **that** much."_

It changed everything because he knew what that was. He'd been on the giving and receiving end of it more times than he could count and he was intimately familiar.

That was the look of betrayal.

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

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**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

"Arnold! No! No, no, no, get out of there!" Ginny cursed at the little Pygmy Puff that was gallivanting around in the dishwater while she was trying to clean up from her and Harry's late lunch at home. The little purple poof was soaked and merrily blowing bubbles in the sink having a grand old time without a care in the world. When she pulled him out he cooed and hummed happily, hiccuping up some suds. "Oh for Merlin's sake...I can't take my eyes off you for a moment now can I?"

The roar of the fireplace sounded as Ginny dried off the little creature, knowing it preferred that task to be done manually over magically. Thinking Harry had forgotten something, the woman didn't even turn when she heard the approaching steps coming into the kitchen. "_Now_ what did you—Hermione?!" When she spotted the other woman in the doorway, arms wrapped about her torso and expression looking absolutely shattered, she ran to her side at once. "What happened to you? Come in! Come here, sit down."

"Hey Gin," the brown haired witch smiled lightly at her friend, allowing hands to grasp at her shoulders and move her to take a seat at the kitchen table. Hermione had stopped crying, though she knew the evidence was still plastered clearly all over her face and even as she spoke, her voice was thick and nasally. "Would you mind if I...if I hung out here for a bit?"

Ginny shook her head quickly, "Not at all! Of course you can stay." The girl's hands combed the wild curls away from her friend's face and she scanned her head and body for any visible signs of injury or distress from where she knelt. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Hermione wanted to, she truly, truly did. She looked at her friend, full of terrified concern with a hint of anger sparking deep in those blue depths. Anger at who or what did this that, she knew, would bloom into a vengeful and explosive rage like Ron's once the target was set. That's the kind of look that **should** have been in your friend's face, not the stoic and bland visage that was full of excuses and figures and reasons as to why it was perfectly okay to demand of her things without concern to the consequences.

Thinking of it all again, the look on Kingsley's face when he realized...the look on _Draco's_...her lip quivered again. It was truly ironic that after all she was raised to believe...that keeping her virtue in tact for the one you love was respected and cherished, was one of the few things she'd held to that terrified her long time friend and future husband like absolutely nothing else. The familiar sting was back at the backs of her eyes and judging by the dark turn of Ginny's brow as the redhead's protective rage erupted in her features, she guessed that she was crying again. She really couldn't tell anymore. Her cheeks were numb. Her lips were numb. She was numb.

As soon as she felt the pressure of Ginny's arms around her shoulders, Hermione snapped to. Her terrible day had come back to her in a manner of minutes and that carefully constructed cage around her emotions dissolved and collapsed. A wretched sob tore from her throat and she buried her face in her friend's neck, feeling her responding squeeze and a warm hand rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. Hermione's shoulders shook violently, the flood of her tears and wails ripped from her with every soothing coo in her ear and comforting stroke along her back.

"Shh...shh...it's okay...it'll be alright." Ginny nestled her chin atop the curly head of hair, continuing her murmurs of reassurance. She had no idea what had brought this all on, but she knew Hermione's meeting with Kingsley had been slotted for today. The witch had told her first about the contract idea of Draco's, swearing her to secrecy until she was ready to tell the boys. While she had little to no clue as to the trigger for Hermione's anguish, her mind kept cycling back to the most common source for it all over the past decade and change:

_**'Malfoy.'**_

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**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

Draco returned to his office after the disastrous meeting with Shacklebolt. He'd retrieved his and Hermione's signed copies of all their paperwork rather dutifully. Neither he nor the dark man shared much of any words upon his return. The only thing that The Minister had said behind his worn visage was the offer to help them find a suitable home in a Muggle neighborhood before their marriage deadline. He also made it clear that theirs was extended an additional week beyond the other groups of people due to the technicality of the Acknowledgment being signed just that day – he would make sure they had a dedicated two weeks to complete the marriage vows.

The phrase 'too little, too late' crossed Draco's mind and he, for some reason, found himself feeling resentful towards the man who was so obviously now trying to make amends in any way he could toward the departed witch. This whole thing was a big bloody mess. He snorted, '_As though it wasn't before...'_

He was staring down at some proposals that still needed reviewing but his eyes had roamed across the pages nearly fifty times already and he still had no idea what he was reading. Draco sighed heavily and ran a hand back through his hair, flopping back in exasperation, completely unable to focus. Every time his mind drifted even the slightest bit, he remembered the way Granger's face looked up at him in front of the elevator doors and it led to him scrubbing at his eyes to try and chase it out. Her admission should have changed absolutely nothing. _Nothing._ But then why did he feel like a complete and total fucking asshole?

Swiveling slightly in his chair he chewed at the inside of his cheek, drumming both sets of fingers on his armrests in an agitated fashion, stopping abruptly when he felt a strange buzzing of energy. Draco frowned down at his arm, both sleeves having been rolled up to his elbows in the stuffiness of his office. He stared questioningly at the left and the faded black smudge that he typically liked to keep under wraps in mixed company...or general company...or...really most of the time, period...noticing the fine blonde hairs on the back of his arm were raised. Before he had a chance to think any further, that warning buzz grew into a blaring alarm at the back of his mind and he launched himself out of his chair and behind his desk just as his office door blew open and a violent _reducto_ came whizzing to where his head had been about a millisecond before.

The plaster was still falling from the newly created hole and his desk was forcefully ripped away to expose him and pushed against the office door, shutting off escape. Amongst the clearing dust, a blurry outline of a slim feminine figure with long fiery hair appeared. "Red?! What the fuck-"

"_**REDUCTO!**_"

Draco was rolling, rolling, rolling to avoid the next blast, thanking any higher power that existed for the small favors of him still keeping in shape and having decent enough reflexes to not-be-fucking-dead-right-now. He scrambled to his feet, summoning his wand with a silent _accio_ and got a _protego_ up in time to deflect yet another violent blast. The fact that nobody had come to see what all the ruckus was about yet, especially with his office already half in shambles, led him to suspect that the energy he'd felt in the air just before her entry was some kind of silencing spell.

The Boy Wonder, he didn't believe would hunt him down and kill him.

Weasel-Bee, he did believe would hunt him down and kill him, but could at least be tethered by either Potter or Granger.

The Potterette, he wholeheartedly _**knew**_ would leave him wishing for castration if the offense to the brown haired witch was serious enough with no guarantees that she could be contained.

Evidently, something happened to her and he was being blamed for it.

"_**REDUC-"**_

"_**EXPELLIARMUS!"**_

The redhead's wand jerked out of her hand and she looked very much surprised at that fact. The smooth wood snapped into Draco's hand and he had the nerve to look smug at the action, though it was short lived due to the running tackle she initiated immediately after.

_'This bitch is crazy!'_

Draco fell hard onto piles of his busted office walls and an array of dirty and damaged papers with the woman barely giving him any time to register the floor beneath him before a fist came flying towards his face. He moved his head to the side just missing getting a dainty, pasty skinned, and freckled set of knuckles refreshing the bruises that were still healing. Ginny's fist collided with the tile and she growled in pain but reared back again for another strike.

Not one to be physically overpowered by a witch – even if she was fucking batshit crazy – he launched her off of him, flipping her over his head with a kick of his legs where she landed with a concerning _crunch_ onto the debris. Draco scrambled off the floor and whipped his wand at her for a lightning quick _incarcerous_. He allowed himself a brief moment of refuge when the thin ropes shot from his wand and anchored the redhead down to the point where all she could do was struggle and curse at him.

Panting, shoulders and chest heaving, and with his very nice and _very expensive_ clothing covered in dust, dirt, and other things, Draco finally addressed her.

"_**What in Salazar's name has gotten into you, you fucking crazy bitch?!"**_

He got a whole lot of hissing and spitting and curses for his trouble and Draco rolled his eyes dramatically, casting a quick silencing spell on her red face while he composed himself further. Blowing out a few calming breaths in an excellent exercising of his supreme patience garnered over the years of dealing with Hermione Granger, he searched the nearby rubble for where he'd dropped Ginny's wand to retrieve it. Draco rolled the wood between his fingers several times, staring between it and the ginger girl tied up and struggling on his office floor. He frowned.

Correction: He _now_ fully believed Harry Potter would hunt him down and kill him with absolutely zero hesitation. At least he could say he'd lived an interesting life.

Draco shook some of the dust from himself before waving his wand over his clothing to _scourgify _the rest of the mess from his person. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and returned to crouch by the redhead's side where she was still angrily moving against his bonds. "Listen – hey, HEY! Stop it!"

Ginny stilled though her glare didn't lessen.

"So. I'll take a leap of faith here and assume that you're here because of Granger. Yes?"

She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to say something but realized she was still magically silenced and nodded instead.

"Alright. Well. I have no fucking clue what I did for you to come and try and kill me, so...I'm going to release you. I'm going to give you back your wand," he held it above her and made very particular eye contact to be sure he had her full attention, "IF you promise not to try to kill me immediately after, and we're going to discuss it like adults. Okay?"

Her scowl deepened but she nodded again.

"Promise?"

She bared her teeth menacingly and mouthed the word back to him, _Promise._

"Okay." Draco stood up, backed away a few steps, and waved his wand over her to release both the silencing and binding spells. She didn't say or do anything right away, but he was still skeptical. He held a hand out to help her to her feet and once she was up again, her opposite hand shot out to punch him in his non-bruised cheek sending him reeling back in pain. "BLOODY HELL WOMAN! You promised!"

"I promised I wouldn't try to kill you! You're not dead are you?"

He snorted, wiping a hand across his lip to find the other side was split now as well. Excellent. Those were the Weasley's for you. Who fucking needed magic when they could just try to beat the piss out of you in fisticuffs? Barbaric idiots.

"No...I suppose not." The two shared a glare and making good on his word, he held her wand out to her, readying himself just in case he needed to dodge away again. When the woman plucked it from his grasp forcefully and shoved it in her back pocket already launching into another angry tirade, he held up his hands, "Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA! NO! You just tried to blow my head up, _**I **_would like to fucking ask some questions now. Is that okay with you?"

Ginny's mouth clamped shut, scowling. "_Fine._ Ask away you pathetic excuse for—"

Draco silenced her again with a wordless spell and glared but continued with his question. "So. What brings you here to my neck of the woods today, Mrs. Potter?" He gestured around him at the still crumbling debris with a sneer, "Redecorating? Or was it something else?"

Ginny waited for the blonde to lift the spell again so she could speak, trying to maintain as much of her head as she could in the face of this king-sized git. "Like _you_ don't know! You said it yourself! Hermione is why I'm here!"

The wizard looked around, trying to locate his so-comfortable desk chair only to find it had been blown into pieces with her second explosive cast. Sighing heavily, Draco trudged through the mess to relocate himself to lean against the dark wood desk that was propped on its side and barring his office door. Folding his arms and crossing his legs at the ankles, Draco tilted his head to one side and flashed her a patronizing smile full of perfect teeth smeared with his blood. "Ah, yes. Granger. So...would you care to enlighten me as to why Miss Granger sent her hitman – or hitwoman, as it were? Should I guess?"

The redhead scoffed and marched right up to him, jabbing him in the chest with a finger as though it weren't completely insane to be standing in the middle of a room she'd just blown to bits on an enraged whim, "You did something to her!"

Draco blinked. Once. Twice. A few more times. He waited for her to elaborate, but nothing came after that. "Okaaaay. Red...you're going to have to give me a bit more to go on-"

"Don't act like you're clueless!" Ginny growled, poking him hard again, "She came to me after lunch sobbing. After YOUR appointment with The Minister!"

_'She knew about the appointment? So she knew about the contract already...not surprising..'_

"She appeared in my kitchen a nervous fucking wreck and couldn't even hardly speak about what happened. That's when I KNEW it had to be you!"

Any sense of humour he had previously at the insanity and ridiculousness of this situation drained out of him at the description of the witch that had been plaguing his mind since she disappeared in the lift hours ago. He pushed off the desk, straightening to his full height, dwarfing the redhead with his stature. "Granger came to you after she left here?"

"Yes! She-"

"Well where is she now?"

Ginny was taken aback. If she didn't know any better, the man almost looked concerned. "Well..she's still at my house. I don't see what that has to do with-"

He sneered down at the girl, the act looking far more menacing than intended with his bloodied mouth. "So you just left an emotionally distraught witch to her own devices? When you yourself just said that she was practically mute in her dismay? You know, maybe I was giving you too much credit all this time for being the only one with any kind of sense in your ginger kid family."

"HEY! Don't you make this about ME!" She bristled with the need to defend her actions, "Hermione is safe and asleep. She's worn herself down to a bloody nub with all the mess that's been happening around here and having to be stuck with _you_ of all people. What did you do to her at your meeting that made her run crying to me? And don't lie to me, Malfoy!"

"_Don't lie to me..."_

His jaw clenched. The words rattling in his skull and ripping the image of Hermione's tear stricken and dejected face to the surface of his memory. Draco grunted and moved away from the girl again, slumping heavily back onto the edge of the desk and shaking his head. "I'm sure you'll find this impossible to believe, but for once, it wasn't actually _me_ that upset her."

"Not you?" Ginny snorted in disbelief, folding her arms, "Then who the hell did? And WHY was she so upset? What happened?"

"You'd have to ask your _friend_ The Minister...or Granger herself." Draco shrugged. He toed some of the nearby rubble with the edge of his shoe, knocking it around with idle fascination. "It's not really my place to say."

Ginny frowned deeply, more than ready to argue, but seeing the droop to his shoulders and the way he had his own grimace in place caused her some pause. His eyes were pointed towards the bit of junk he was nudging with his foot but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. She softened her posture as well as her voice, a hint of earnest pleading edging its way in, "Malfoy...what happened up there?"

He sighed. He wasn't lying – it wasn't his place to share something like that. Draco thought of the brunette witch and felt a hard ache in his gut at the position The Minister had put both him and the witch in. When he thought of it, again and again, isolating the issue from the people in question, he couldn't figure out why this was such a big deal. When he plugged names and faces back into the equation, however, that same stomach churning feeling would erupt in him again.

Women lose their virginity all the time.

That _is, _in part, how babies are made, after all. There were even a small handful of arranged Pureblood marriages that he'd known of where the women – _friends from school_ even – were marrying men they didn't want to and he knew for a fact that they were maidens beforehand. _They_ never ran crying to him or anyone else about losing it. Maybe they just didn't care as much? Maybe wizarding society as a whole didn't hold it as high as Muggles? He wasn't so sure, as he wasn't really all that well versed on the Muggle culture.

What was it that made this so different then?

The simplest answer, of course, was: Because it was Hermione Granger.

Everything meant something to her. Everything was special and sacred in some way. Everything had a story behind it. If you ever were to ask her, she would know, and given that you don't shut her gob before she gets the chance, she will till you all about it – usually with great fervor.

Draco found that he had no idea why this was so important to her and why it upset her so, but knowing what he _did_ know about her, he just knew that it _**was**_. He often enjoyed seeing the woman upset and unhinged, but it was **his** job to get her there. He'd perfected the fine technique of push and pull to get her so close to that edge that would drive her mad and cause that sweet, sweet release of seething anger that spread color through her so quickly.

Draco was an artist and an incited Granger was his greatest piece of work – and she really should be after working on her relentlessly for twelve years.

That's really what it was, wasn't it?

Someone else had brought her there this time...someone that she held in the highest regards _as her friend_.

The thought made his blood simmer.

Slytherin folk were not known for their more admirable traits by anyone, but if there was one thing that was instilled into most of them, it was solidarity amongst those truly loyal to you and your house. Friends, _real_ friends, were nearly impossible to come by. The ones that would protect you, sacrifice for you, and die for you in good times and in bad came few and far between. You didn't abandon that. You didn't sell that. You didn't _sign _that shit away for the greater good. The rest were fodder and pawns in the game, but those...those you didn't sacrifice. You kept them and favored them because, unlike the rest, they weren't expendable.

People called them selfish, Draco preferred to think of it as practical. Maybe Shacklebolt's little law will have their population rebounding in no time, maybe it won't, but regardless of the outcome, if there is anything to be salvaged of his relationship with the witch, it will take a lifetime to get back. In Draco's book, that was bad form.

Ginny called in irritation, "Ferret?"

"I'll make you a deal," he piped up suddenly, the tiredness creeping into his words.

"...o..kay?"

"I'll tell you what happened up there, every bit of it. But you have to swear on your name as a witch, that you will tell _no one_ that I told you, nor repeat the information to anyone, and you will not go on a raging warpath to kill the responsible party." Draco held out his hand, "Deal?"

Ginny eyed the outstretched hand suspiciously, "Why would you want me to promise not to go after who's responsible?"

"Well, I would like to remain employed and alive, for one. That's a bit difficult to do when your boss is dead and," he motioned to the rubble, "Everyone tends to think of you first whenever anything goes wrong."

She gave him a sheepish grin at that, "Sorry about that...I guess. Well, maybe I'm not! Maybe you deserved it!"

Draco snorted, wincing at the movement. He hadn't bothered to try to heal himself up since he wasn't all that certain he was done fighting yet, waste of magic that would've been. "Of course I deserved it. Just not for this. Not this time."

Ginny chuckled and finally took his hand for a firm shake, "I swear that I, Ginevra Potter, won't repeat a word of what you tell me, I won't tell anyone we spoke, and I won't kill whoever is responsible."

The blonde kept her hand firmly in his, half tugging her back when she tried to pull away, "Oh, and you have to help me clean this up."

An eye roll. "Fine."

"And don't tell Potter I flipped you."

"FINE."

"Or that I tied you up."

"FINE MALFOY! Merlin! Get on with it!"

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-..-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

Hermione was curled up on the floor of her bedroom closet. Boxes were sprawled out all around her, some stacked, some with their lids half on or hanging off an edge, others clearly upended with documents spilling all out onto the carpet. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, hair barely tamed and clipped back, and her arms wrapped around her legs while she ran her fingers over a small three ringed picture album. It was modest and unassuming in size with one of those puffy vinyl covers that she supposed was trendy or cute at the time it was purchased. The cover had dings and scratches and scrapes all long the front, back, and spine and – until now – she'd left it carefully buried.

Five years. She wondered just how much a person could change in five years. Hermione set the album down at her side, not daring to open it, lest her tears start fresh and new. Her glazed stare scanned the piles around her and located a well worn manilla envelope, fat and swollen with paperwork inside. The edges were worn and wrinkled, the outside tinted and dingy in certain spots where the oil from sweaty palms had coated it after hours and hours of handling. She took a deep breath and with no small amount of courage she reached inside to look at sets of papers that she'd seen too many times to count since the end of the war.

_Tiny legs hung off the edge of the seat, swinging back and forth easily. Hermione's chubby little hands gripped at the chains of the swing as her father approached from the direction of their house. She beamed with childish delight as he took a seat in the swing next to her and scooted his way close enough to her to be able to reach out and push her lightly._

"_Happy anniversary Daddy!"_

_The man grinned down at his daughter, "Why thank you, my little bug. Did Mummy tell you it was our anniversary today?"_

_Hermione's bushel of curls bounced excitedly with her nods, making him chuckle._

"_Do you know what that means, sweetheart?"_

_The little girl rocked lightly with each gentle push at her back from her father's hand. She nodded again confidently, "It means you and Mummy have a party! Like on my birthday!"_

_Mr. Granger couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "Well...you're not wrong!" He leaned forward, making himself more comfortable in the seat, smooshing his face against the chain so he could get more leverage on propelling each of her swings. The sound of his daughter's giggles at the random shoves that would take her so much higher than the others put a lopsided grin on his face. "Your birthday is like an anniversary too. They're both like the same thing."_

_Hermione rocked into each movement, dipping forward when she would swing back, and back when she would go forward. She was so concentrated on the task of boosting herself higher with the help of her father's pushes that she almost missed the talk about her birthday. "How are they like the same?" Her chocolate eyes were huge and full of curiosity now. Questions. She always had questions._

"_Well," he mulled over how to explain it. "They're both parties where I celebrate the women that are the most important parts of my life." Mr. Granger nodded, seeming relatively pleased with the explanation._

"_But we celebrate Mummy's birthday too! So...Mummy gets **two** parties?"_

_He snorted, shaking his head to himself and grinning down at the little girl. "Yes...I guess that's true too. Mummy does get two parties."_

"_How can I have two parties like Mummy?"_

_Giving her another solid little push, he watched his girl swing in front of him. Mr. Granger backed up a little on his own perch and just let his eyes follow his daughter's form, swinging as carefree as anything. "Well...when you grow up – which will be a long, long time from now – you'll marry a nice man and you'll have an anniversary too on that same day every year. Then you can have a party on your birthday AND your anniversary. But remember, that's a long, long, loooooong time from now...when you get married."_

_Hermione giggled at the funny scowling face he made thinking about her getting married. She lost her rhythm in her swing and teetered to an uneven stop, her legs kicking insistently to try and get it restarted. Her giggle faded as her concentration grew – her legs were too short to reach the grass below to kick off and get height and she couldn't get herself coordinated enough to get the swing rocking again. She tried again for just another moment and when her frustration was at its peak, she felt a solid push at her back, almost startling her off the seat itself. When Hermione peeked over her shoulder, she saw her father had moved and nudged her back on track._

_The silence between them was warm and comfortable, the man dutifully pushing his daughter on her swing set in the late summer afternoon._

"_Daddy?"_

"_Yes, sweetheart?"_

"_When I grow up, I'm gonna marry you."_

"_Oh?"_

"_Yeah! Then we can have an anniversary too! We're gonna have tons of parties!"_

_Mr. Granger chuckled, shook his head, and kept nudging her gently, "Sounds perfect, sweetie."_

Hermione loosed a shuddered sigh. She pulled herself back from the innocence of such a memory running her fingertips over the print on the papers now. Her lips mouthed out the words that were inked there, words that she no longer had to read, they were all just engrained at this point with how many times she'd read these reports from cover to cover.

After the war was over and things seemed safe enough, Hermione had approached Kingsley's new Ministry for help in finding her parents. The work was quick. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had set up shop running a _bakery_ of all things. Some kind of sweets shop that, if she'd ever asked about going to one like it as a child, she would've received a stern reprimand about how awful an idea it was and how it rots your teeth!

Hermione explained what she had to do to assure their safety and that's when Shacklebolt had to have a long, serious sit-down with her. The _obliviate_ she'd cast on them could be reversed, but there were risks, particularly for Muggles. Their systems weren't as resilient or as strong as a witch or wizard's so they were much more susceptible to negative side effects. Memory charms were especially delicate – that's why there was an entire _team_ dedicated to the task of erasing and restoring them!

Kingsley had offered to have his best team members go with her to their location and try to restore their memories, but only if she understood the best and worst case scenarios. Hermione had known all of this before she'd ever cast the spell, of course. It wasn't like her to not research everything into the ground. She was intimately familiar with every awful thing that could happen to Muggles AND any kind of magical being with failed attempts at restoration, it was just the safest option at the time. As it were, she'd been prepared for the very real possibility that she would never come back from the battle alive and had just wanted to give her parents the best chance at survival without the added pain of knowing they'd lost their only daughter. When she lived to see the dawn of the next day and was given the good news that her parents had been found, it was a blessing and a curse all at once.

Would they be upset that she left them alone, even though they didn't know it? Would they be mad that she used her magic on them to meddle in their minds? Would the reversal even work? Would they remember their old lives, just without her? Would the restoration backfire and drive them mad? Or damage their brains? Or _kill_ them?

Questions, she always had a million of them. Hermione let the questions bounce around in her mind every day, every hour, every minute of every passing moment. They lingered like an unpleasant weed, cropping up randomly and just when she thought she'd gotten rid of the doubt, it would reappear, having been too deeply seated to be so easily tossed aside.

She went on like that for weeks after finding out about their whereabouts.

Weeks changed into months.

Months into seasons.

Seasons into years.

The more time that passed, the more she was able to justify to herself leaving them there to enjoy the new life they'd made for themselves. Hermione had plenty of time to come up with ways she could cope for many of the possible negative outcomes.

If they hated her, she would be broken, but at least things would be _right_. They would know who she was and they would come to their own conclusions about the things that she did, happy or not.

If they resumed their old lives, just without the tidbit of her included, she would leave them be. Maybe watch them from afar. Perhaps she would be a mysterious benefactor if ever the need should arise, but at least they would know who they once were.

If they went insane from a backfire or a failed spell, she would dedicate all her life and time – as much as they needed – to care for them in the way that she was confident they would have provided her had their roles been switched.

It was that last and most final possibility that, even after five years, she couldn't find it in her to work around.

If the restoration killed them...what then? She couldn't put a third party up to such a task, not with full knowledge of what could happen! Hermione wouldn't leave someone else with what was her responsibility, her fault. Though by the same token, she hadn't yet reached the point in her life where she was ready to lose her parents – not for good. She was certainly not ready to deal with being the one that killed them if that _did _happen.

So she was still waiting. Waiting for that day when she would be ready to bring them back. There was so much that they'd missed already because of her: the bulk of her school years, her first dance, her first _serious_ boyfriend, her first real job... Hermione shuddered another sigh, they'd miss her _wedding_...likely her child if she decides to have one.

The witch threw the paperwork aside in disgust, wrapping her arms back around her legs, and burying her face back into her knees. She clenched her eyes shut tightly against the painful sting of moisture that hadn't released her from its sorrow filled grip for more than an hour or two that day.

It was better this way.

That was the mantra echoing through her head whenever the doubt crawled to the surface again.

It was better this way.

Better be ignorant of a matter than half know it.

It was better this way.

At least they weren't missing out on her being happy.

It was better this way.

What parent likes to see their child in a loveless marriage anyway?

_It was better this way._

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-..-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

Draco's hand wobbled on its way to bringing his half filled tumbler to his mouth. Dark amber liquid sloshed around, nearly spilling over the lip, and just when it was to find its purchase, a dark skinned hand snatched the glass away and set it down heavily far, _far_ away.

"I'm cutting you off, mate."

A glassy eyed silver scowl tried its best to focus on the Italian man who was bustling about the kitchen with a dish towel draped over one shoulder, moving around and preparing a quaint little meal for two. "Fffuggoff Zzabi..Zabinin...Zabini."

Blaise spared a glance to his thoroughly sloshed friend who had assimilated his kitchen island as his new set of legs in order to stay upright. The wizard had shown up well past drunk o'clock already and had helped himself to another drink or two of Firewhiskey while observing him cook dinner for his fiancee.

"Yes, I'll get right on that. You know, _you're_ free to leave at any time. I mean...I wasn't sure if you were aware, you having invited yourself over while completely shit-faced in my flat and all...but any time now is good. I'll even show you to the fireplace so you can leave."

Draco sputtered, sloppily setting himself on a short stool, the distance from his relatively upright posture to where his bum found the seat startled a hiccup-snort from him. Apparently he was amused, but he wasn't really sure at this point.

"This," the blonde waved his hand around at the items Blaise had started chopping into pieces on his cutting board in obvious disgust, "What isz this? Last time _I_ checked – which was recent – _I_ thought you were rich."

"Your point?" Blaise moved his freshly chopped ingredients into varying sized bowls so he could add them to his dish at their respective times.

"So. My POINT. Where's the elf?"

He didn't even raise his head, moving to the stove now to check the flame under a large pan, adjusting it manually with the dial below the burner. "Pardon?"

"The ELF! Y'know...the ones that are s'pos'd do..._THAT_. And whas with. The. Stove?"

Blaise moved to a cabinet to produce a fresh glass. "Well, I'm a grown adult that doesn't need an elf to clean and cook for me." Another cabinet to produce a flask and pour said flask liquid into said glass. "So I didn't see the need for one. And this stove? It's a Muggle stove. Cooks much better than the ones back at the manor. Tastes better." And then offer said liquid filled glass to Draco. "One more, Drake. This is lighter than the Firewhiskey so I can stand your drunk mess of a face and you still get your drink."

The blonde eyed the glass suspiciously but since his mind was deliriously fuzzy _at best_ he swiped up the funny colored liquid and slammed it back. The effects were near instantaneous and he clutched his head as a horrifying headache bloomed behind his eyeballs. "GUH! What the fuck was that?!"

The Italian smirked, moving back to his cooking, now that his pan was properly heated. "Sobering draught. The unfortunate side effect being that while it pushes the alcohol through and out of your system at such an accelerated rate and you're no longer your idiot drunken self, you still get a hell of a hangover."

"You have a lot of experience with this I take it?" Draco was pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets so hard that speckled pictures were twinkling behind them but it relieved some of the pain.

Blaise shrugged, "I have in the past. You know I'm far too busy to get properly sloshed nowadays though." He glanced over at his wall clock and sighed. "She'll be here in about half an hour, so if there was some reason that you'd come over dribbling your spittle all over your inebriated self like we were teens again, you should start talking."

"She?"

"My fiancee, you nit. It's Friday. Friday night is date night. Speaking of, shouldn't you be getting your own self familiarized with your little bookworm?"

Draco snorted, the action causing him to moan out in pain, and he thumped his head to the island. The surface was cool and soothing at least.

"Ahh," Blaise finally paused in what he was doing to turn and face the blonde fully. He crossed his arms and allowed himself a wide grin, "Unless that is the thing that brings you here this evening! So tell me, Draco, what have you already done to ruin everything with your lioness? That _is _worth my undivided attention. You've had only a week to cock it all up so I imagine it must be magnificent."

He growled, ignoring the way it vibrated through his skull and built the pressure around his ears, "_**I**_ haven't done a bloody thing."

"Really? You know I don't believe that for a hot second."

"It's the fucking truth! It's bad enough that the Gryffindor idiots all want to string me up for being chained to their little Princess – which, by the fucking way, I did NOT ask for – but you don't believe me either? Et tu, Blaise?"

Blaise chuckled, "Fine. Let's say that you haven't actually done anything this time...yet." He ignored the dark glare from his friend and continued, "Then what is it about her that's got you Flooing to my flat in a drunken stupor?"

"What makes you think it's about Granger?"

"Simple. There are only two reasons that you ever get so pissed you hear colors," he held up his thumb, "Your family," he popped up his index finger, "And women. For once your family seems to be being a little less insane than usual-"

"Hey!"

"-so that just leaves option two." Blaise looked at the clock again, pampered his stir fry a little then took back up his comfortable position against the counter. "Clock's tickin' mate, what's the deal?"

Draco fiddled with the empty glass in front of him, eyes darting between it and the other one near Blaise that was still full of _actual_ liquor. His dark friend just gave him a challenging look that caused him to sigh. "I...can't really say..."

Blaise just stared at him for a few long minutes, the clock hand ticking obnoxiously, louder than the sizzling meat in the pan. "So...you tried to crash my date night, obviously looking for someone to talk to – because, let's face it, I AM your only friend – but you can't talk about it."

Draco clenched his jaw, grinding his back teeth together half in thought, half in aggravation. He _wanted_ to talk about it, by Merlin, did he want to talk about it...but he'd already told the ginger girl earlier today and it really wasn't his place to keep spilling it about everywhere. At least the redhead was the witch's friend, Blaise was just...Blaise.

"Right then. Out you go."

"I can't talk about what happened," Draco spoke quickly as the man came to shuffle him out, "But...maybe I wanted to talk to you about a hypothetical situation. With all this marriage tripe and whatall."

A fine, dark eyebrow slowly edged its way up the man's hairline. "Hm..alright then. What of this 'hypothetical' situation?"

"_Hypothetically_ speaking...if you were to be told you had to wed your worst enemy-"

Blaise barely stifled the scoff.

"-and say...you found out that she, or he, in the case of you being a woman and all-"

"Right."

"-was a virgin. What would _you_ do? Go."

Blaise blinked several times after Draco's prompting. The longer the silence stretched, the more fidgety Draco seemed to become as the pieces fell into place in the Italian's head. "Waaaait...you mean Granger-"

"Hypothetical!"

"-_hypothetically_ speaking, do you think Granger is a virgin?"

"Hypothetically speaking, I would have extremely solid foundations upon which to build such a hypothetical assumption."

"No fucking way. She-"

"_**Hypothetical!**_" Draco reminded.

"BUGGER that!" Blaise blew him off without breaking stride, "She had not only Krum's attention for the longest, but Weasley was all over her after school! She's older than you, than _us_, by a year and not only is she the smartest thing to walk out of Hogwarts in decades, she's got that tight little body, nice tits, and legs that go on fucking forever! How is she still a virgin?!"

Draco was stunned for the briefest of moments. A part of him was disgusted that his mate was admiring Granger physically – even if it was in the most offhanded of ways – and another part of him was ever so slightly perturbed that he was talking about his fiancee in such a fashion. The more disturbing part was that neither of _those_ parts really had room to actually disagree with the evaluation.

"Alright, alright!" Draco snarled and breezed past the question, "So what am I supposed to do?"

"Well...I've heard that their blood can be used to appease monstrous mythical beasts and bargain for years of peace."

"I'm fucking serious!"

"Shit, those bloody lions will shit a brick! Their Golden Girl is going to be thoroughly shagged, for the first time ever, by YOU of all people! That's fucking poetic as hell."

"BLAISE!"

Blaise let out a hearty laugh at his friend's expense, completely uncaring at the way Draco's red face glowered at him. Taking a minute to compose himself, he wiped a few tears away with the back of a hand and returned to his cooking, still chuckling. "You've got your work cut out for you, mate."

Draco groaned, flopping his head into his hands. "The fuck am I supposed to do with this? It was already bad enough that we have to do it _once_, but now I've got to be _her_ first?"

"Wait a tick," Blaise stopped stirring and gave him another of those quizzical looks, "You're complaining because you _have_ to shag Hermione Granger? Draco...do you have any bloody idea how many blokes would kill to be in that position?"

The wizard picked his head up and arched a brow at his friend, "No...though why do I suspect I'm looking at one of them?.."

A shrug. "Granger's a catch. If it weren't for her bad blood, I doubt you'd have come to my home trying to drink yourself into an early grave tonight."

"Blood's not really an issue anymore," Draco mumbled before he could stop himself, but he knew the man had heard by the way he was staring at him. He shrugged and rubbed at his face, "We fucking hate each other, Blaise. We hate each other and I'm supposed to take..._this_ from her. She doesn't want me to. _**I**_ don't want me to, but we're kind of out of bleedin' options! How am I supposed to deal with that?"

Blaise pursed his lips in thought. For once that evening, he seemed to be seriously considering Draco's situation. The whole thing didn't really seem like a big deal to him, but he went out on a limb and did some mental roleplaying to try and understand the task at hand. "Okay, how 'bout this? What if it wasn't Granger? If this was just some other woman you were marrying. Let's even say you were in love with her, how would you handle the situation? What would you do differently than if it was just your normal style of romp?"

Draco furrowed his brow, searching his mind for ideas. His eyes glanced around the room of Blaise's kitchen, able to see into the living room-dining room combo of his comfortably sized soon-to-no-longer-be bachelor pad from here. "I don't know. Dinner?" He waved to the dish that he was preparing. "Some kind of romantic gesture with flowers or jewelry or...a fucking puppy?"

"Drake," Blaise looked at him incredulously, "Since when has Granger struck you as the flower and jewelry type?"

The blonde shrugged, "Thought we weren't saying it was her. Plus, I've never actually cared for any of the women I've slept with...not like...that." His face scrunched in a grimace.

"What about Pansy?" Blaise seemed thoughtful and added, "Hey, were you not her first?"

Draco's frown was even more prominent at the mention of their pug-faced friend. "Yeah well, despite the name, Pansy was _not_ what you would consider a delicate flower. I'd appreciate it if you would leave that one buried also...Merlin knows it took me how many years to get the bitch off my arm?"

"Okay _fine_." The man sighed in exasperation, "Then let's look at a different situation – a scenario, if you will. It IS Granger, but you're marrying her of your own accord. Sod the law, the law doesn't even exist. You're getting married because you kids are _actually_ in love and you've got to do 'it' but it'll be her first time. If she's kept it in her pants this long – especially if she was dating YOU for any length of time – it probably has some kind of meaning to her... What would you do to soften that blow? What things would the great _Draco Malfoy_ do to deflower his Princess? What would you do differently for that occasion? What would she expect from you, _the man she loves_?"

Draco stared hard into his glass at the few drops that remained of the draught he'd consumed earlier, thinking just as hard. His mind picked and prodded at everything he knew about this woman that he was being forced to marry. He pulled memories from as far back as the first time he'd seen her flick her wand expertly in their first Charms class together like the little know-it-all she was, to brief glimpses of her through bodies at war, to the more recent points in time, willing his subconscious to just gloss over that damnedable vision of her tear plastered face.

The blonde searched the memories of the past week for clues.

"_...why?..."_

_..she looked as though she was trying very hard to pull her thoughts away from something roving around in her head. She turned from him, rubbing the cold from one of her arms. She looked so vulnerable to him in that quiet elevator, just the two of them..._

What on earth could Hermione Granger possibly want from him of all people? She liked books...reading...she seemed to like that piece of jewelry well enough. Maybe she _would_ actually like more?

"_Can a man not buy his woman pretty things?"_

_..She chuckled at the suggestion... _

"_Maybe if it wasn't you and I."_

What would make her most comfortable if this were happening for real?

"_...if there's anything you've ever done for me that all these other people around me haven't, it's been honest.."_

How would she want her new husband to handle her with something like that?

"_...it's not in our contract, but I would at least like to know I can count on you for that much..."_

If Granger were truly his, what in Salazar's name would she expect him to do differently for her first time?

"_...don't lie to me..."_

Draco lifted his head still frowning, eyes focused to a point far off in the distance when he came to a startling answer. "Nothing."

"How's that?"

"She...wouldn't want me to do anything differently," he looked at Blaise, finding that the man was giving him the most quizzical and skeptical look he could at the answer he'd just provided. "Granger wouldn't want me to treat her any differently at all."

Blaise was making to say something, probably call him an idiot for thinking a woman, even one like Hermione, would want to deal with Malfoy in all of his natural glory on a night like that, but they were interrupted by the loud _WHOOSH_ of the Floo activating.

"Time's up!"

Draco found himself being unceremoniously shoved off the little stool and out of the kitchen towards the fireplace with extreme haste. If not for digging his heels in and stubbornly shoving away Blaise's hands at the sight of the blonde woman dusting off the strangest poofy silver and green dress, he would've missed actually seeing it for himself. "_**Loony?!**_"

"Oh, hello Draco." Luna greeted the wizard with a dreamy smile as though one of the last times she'd seen him up close wasn't when she was being held captive in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. "You look well. Save for the fact you reek a bit of alcohol."

Draco looked between Luna and Blaise in astonishment, the latter giving him the darkest look of _'I dare you'_ he could muster.

"Luna, love, would you excuse us a moment? I was just showing Drake out."

"Yes, I take it that's why you were pushing him into the fireplace after I arrived. Shall I check on dinner then? It smells like something may be burning."

"If it pleases you, pet."

"Alright then," she smiled again and she raised her hand, the fingers flexing from pinkie to pointer in a wistful little wave. "Nice seeing you again."

Draco blinked again, raising his hand and mimicking the odd wave she'd given him without thinking about it. "So...you and Lovegood?"

"Goodnight, mate."

"But-"

"**Good. Night."**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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_**Knowing You**_

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_Knock knock knock knock knock!_

Hermione grunted into her pillow, swiping at her mouth with the back of her arm and nuzzling back against it.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

She groaned at the insistent noise coming from somewhere in the direction of her front door. Hermione scrubbed at her cheek with the heel of her hand, spreading the sticky saliva across her skin and making a sour face at the feel of it. Grunting again, she sat up, hair sticking in all sorts of odd directions. Hermione blinked owlishly at her surroundings, the knocking continuing as she tried to get her bearings.

_'Twelve o'clock...noon...Saturday?'_

Stumbling out of her bed, she tripped and fell onto her bedroom floor, feet tangled in her wad of sheets. She hissed as her knees collided with the ground and growled at the cotton bindings until she finally freed herself from them. Hermione clambered to her feet, groggily looking around for her robe. Slipping her arms into the silky thing, she took a few more swipes at her face to free it of her drool then wiped her hands on the material over her thighs before she patted down and soothed her unruly mane.

Hermione had fallen asleep after a long night of tears and her sinuses were swollen as a result. She felt how her nose was still stuffed up and noticed how dry and sore her throat was, undoubtedly from snoring and breathing through it almost exclusively overnight. The skin around her eyes was swollen and puffy and there was an unpleasant stickiness to them. She didn't need to check her reflection in the mirror to know that she looked absolutely awful.

The knocking still hadn't subsided, in fact, it became progressively more and more aggravating as the seconds passed and she padded angrily to see who the hell was disturbing her. Her small fist clenched around the doorknob, so agitated from the noise that she didn't even bother to look through the peephole before she unlocked and ripped open the door with a snarl on her face.

"CUT THE BLOODY—Malfoy?!"

Draco's fist was still raised from where he'd been pounding on her door, his face as classically stoic as ever. He greeted her with a sneer, "Granger. Standing me up already?" His silver eyes looked her over from head to toe, lingering at the hem of her robe where it hit her at about mid-thigh, still leaving a deceptively long view of sunkissed flesh for a woman that was of such short stature. Fancy that, the Italian was right. They really did go on for ages...

Hermione was still trying hard to process what he was doing at her front door that she almost missed the nosy heads popping out of the nearby doors in her apartment's hallway. She cursed to herself and realized he must have been out there for _quite_ some time. Growling, she grabbed him by the arm and jerked him into her flat, shutting and locking the door behind them. Arms folded, hips set in her most common jut, she glared at the back of his stupid blonde head while he was taking in her modest home space with that same curl of lip that she'd become so used to.

"Malfoy," she hated how hoarse her voice sounded, "Do you mind telling me what you're doing here? On a Saturday? How the hell did you find out where I live?"

Draco invited himself further in to her flat, running his hand over the dark wood of her narrow hall table, checking if it were real wood or some cheap material made to look expensive. He tilted his head curiously when he found it was the real deal. He started plucking up some of the knickknacks she had set on it, just as he would do sometimes in her office. His exploration was halted when the small woman came over and snatched the decorative box he was examining from his grip. She set it back down in its proper place so she could refocus her glare on him, though not before he noticed the sparkle of the gem still sitting on her finger.

"You have five minutes to tell me why you're here before I kick you back into the street."

He tsked at her, "Granger, I thought your memory was better than that. We were to look for housing this weekend. Have you really forgotten already?" Draco sighed and flopped onto her sofa, making a mess of the careful arrangement of throw pillows.

_'Housing?'_ Her eyes went round but she covered quickly. She _had_ forgotten. The Muggle housing was a contract term they'd agreed upon very early on, but with an estimated week left to get married initially, they'd needed to get to searching quickly. Before their meeting with The Minister yesterday, they did make plans to look into it this weekend. As it was, they needed to scour the available properties quickly and despite Draco's sizable wealth and plan to just buy something outright, they still weren't sure if things would be able to be handled in time for them to be moved in by the deadline. Although with the 'excitement' of everything yesterday, all of that was pushed to the very back burners of her mind. Hermione rubbed one of her arms a bit sheepishly.

"Right. That...sorry. I suppose I did forget." She'd begun her apologies then creased her brow, "Wait. We never decided on a time...and I still didn't give you my address! How did you get here? Why didn't you make a Floo call?"

Draco was too busy picking the little pills of lint off of one of her pillows and sprinkling them onto her carpet afterward to look up, "Well, after you so rudely left me to my own devices yesterday afternoon, I decided on a time without you."

Hermione felt the flush creep up from her neck into her cheeks, embarrassment washing over her at the mention of her _episode_. Here she thought he was going to have enough social tact to carefully avoid it; she should've known better. This _was_ Draco Malfoy after all.

"_Again_, you could've called-"

"Tried that," he cut her off rudely. "Apparently, you are quite dead to the world when you're busy feeling sorry for yourself."

That flush of embarrassment turned to something else _very_ quickly. "You're such a prat! And STOP making a mess on my carpet!" She snatched her pillow away from him with a huff.

Draco smirked up at her lewdly from where he sat, crossing his legs to rest an ankle against the opposite knee. "Oh, you're right, _that's_ to be saved for the wedding night." He found he wasn't able to resist the raunchy innuendo so perfectly offered – enraged red was absolutely his favorite color on the woman.

It took Hermione a second to understand why he was now grinning like that and the moment she did, her lip peeled back and she let out a disgusted grunt. The pillow was launched back at his face but he caught it easily. "You are such a _**PIG**_!"

"Finding your address wasn't difficult for me, Granger," Draco continued unfazed by the impassioned glare trying to burn holes through his head. "When you know the correct people in the correct places, all you need do is ask. Now, unless you're planning on going like that, you should probably get dressed."

Hermione stared down at him, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. All her sorrow from the previous day was dwarfed and stored away in the face of this insufferable git that was making himself completely at home in her living room.

_'The **nerve** of this man! Did nothing ever phase him?'_

She'd expected him to treat her differently since yesterday's 'coming out' announcement. Maybe tiptoe around her awkwardly just as any decent human being would. No. She should have known better – she reminded herself. This was Draco Malfoy and he wasn't a decent human being, he was a huge, oversized, arrogant, infuriating, _cockroach_. The way this man could get under her skin never ceased to amaze her and no matter how hard she tried to resist it, he always found a way to wriggle his way in and drive her batty.

Hermione took one long, concentrated, deep breath – in through the nose, out through the mouth. It was a bit forced with the swelling in her nose from her night of tears but it worked to calm her some just the same. She grit out as patiently as she could in her ragged voice, "Alright. Ten minutes, Malfoy. Wait here and I will get dressed."

Draco nodded, reclining more into the absurdly comfortable cushions of her plush sofa. He watched her pad barefoot to her bedroom, her rear and chest jiggling oh-so-slightly with each aggravated step. The wizard mentally cursed Blaise for ever pointing out the woman's physical assets in conversation. "Granger?"

Hermione stopped in her doorway, scowl solidly in place. "_What_, Malfoy?"

"Do you sleep in the buff?"

The red in her face reignited and she snarled, shutting her door so hard that the walls shook. _**"PIG!"**_

Draco chuckled and folded his arms behind his head to stretch out while he waited for the witch to re-emerge. He felt a little bit better than yesterday now after laying his claim to the woman's emotions. He gave himself a mental nod and pat on the back – she was _**his**_ to frazzle and enrage, nobody else's.

It was only right that he set everything back on track once again.

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The information that Kingsley provided to Draco for the Muggle housing was jarringly helpful. The older wizard must have really felt like shit because he had listings to him by the end of the day yesterday. Shacklebolt even gave Draco the contact information for a Muggle realtor who had been made privy to the magical world through a very strict set of heavily policed channels.

The explanation given was that this individual, and a few others like her, were used in witch and wizard protection programs for safe relocation. Due to the nature of that time sensitive program, he was assured that if they saw a place they liked, it would be theirs within a matter of days. Hermione wasn't aware of how Draco acquired all of this information exactly, however, and these details he planned to keep very close to his chest to avoid dealing with a brooding Granger for as long as possible. She'd made plenty of attempts to get more understanding of how he came upon such information so quickly, but he just provided her with ambiguous answers about knowing the right people until she'd gotten tired of trying to squeeze blood from a stone.

For all the worth that this little Muggle woman had to their current situation, the way she kept looking at Hermione when she thought the witch wasn't looking at _her _was grating on his nerves. He was no stranger to fake women. Growing up in an aristocratic setting, social politics were decidedly commonplace and probably the worst around women. To a degree, while the men he grew up around were equally conniving, they tended to be at least a bit more aggressive about it.

If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was a passive aggressive woman – and the way the realtor would look at the witch or slide a subtle comment in here and there after comments his fiancee would make, it was clear to him exactly what it was. If Hermione noticed, she made no sign of it, so he could only assume she was either completely oblivious or she just didn't care.

The way that he would catch the woman looking at _him_ was quite the opposite. That was laughable if the Muggle thought she had _any_ inkling of a chance with him, sham marriage or not.

"Careful of your step on this one, Miss Gringer, the floors were cleaned not long ago for showing."

"Granger," Draco corrected the realtor blandly, so tired of the potshots taken at the witch. She wasn't even reacting to them, it was just irritating to see the woman try so bloody hard to rile the brunette.

Hermione chose a comfortable outfit to go out in, a nice lightweight blouse, some Muggle jeans, and sensible ballet flats. Her hair was pinned up off her neck with a large, toothy, clawed clip so her curls spilled messily behind her in a haphazard looking ponytail. Next to Draco in his neatly pressed suit, she knew she looked positively shabby and she couldn't give less of a damn if she tried. She didn't want to be here, looking at houses, with _him_...and she certainly had better things to do than have this silly realtor lady try to rile her. Hermione didn't miss the looks she was trying - and failing - to covertly shoot Draco's way and she thought the picture quite humourous. If she could pawn him off on this ignoramus, she would wrap him up in paper with a funny little bow on his head and pay her on top of that for her immeasurable gratitude.

Instead, she just ignored the Muggle's comments. That was the tenth or eleventh time so far she'd poked at her in some way and this was only the fourth house they'd looked at. Muggle or magical, women never seemed to change. She had far too many years of practice ignoring them though, and really, she was marrying the only person that had ever been able to penetrate her securely reinforced defenses, so everything else was much like a drop in the bucket at this point.

So far, the floorplans they'd viewed were far too large in Hermione's opinion, especially if it was to be only the two of them to manage the space. She found herself dissecting the houses quite practically, discovering she really had little preference to it beyond that. The last few had far too many bedrooms that would go unused, though she supposed Draco was used to that, same with the bathrooms. They even had bonus game rooms or theatre rooms, in some cases a pool or two! That was just too much and she'd made her opinion known then, even through the snooty look the realtor gave her when she mentioned how it was too much money to spend.

This one, though - even though she would rather have been laying in bed wallowing away her Saturday - this one was much more in line with what she was thinking. Go figure that Draco's face was notably disappointed when they came up on the exterior earlier.

"Four beds, three baths, no basement on this one, _no pool_," the realtor laughed too hard at her quip, "The rooms aren't as large as the others of course, but it has a lot of light coming in."

The couple toured the home, both levels of it, and Hermione found that she was actually quite fond of it. Bits and pieces of the layout reminded her of the home she grew up in with the angles, facing, and shape of the windows mainly. She loved how much light came in on all sides of the house and it even had a loft that had a full wall of built in bookshelves. Hermione tried to keep the small smile from curving her lips, for some reason determined to remain in her solemn mood.

They were in the kitchen now and Hermione ran her hands over the black marble countertops, admiring the smooth feel of them as well as the cherry wood finish on all the cabinets. It was much more dressed up than the kitchen in her childhood home, but the way the counters were placed and the openness of it all reminded her of it. She felt Draco's presence behind her but had gotten so used to him sneaking up behind her today that she just turned her head inquisitively, trying to keep the genuine interest from her voice.

"How much was this one, Malfoy?"

Draco pulled the list from the inside of his jacket and set it on the counter so they both could see, tracing his finger down until he found the one they were currently looking at. He did the conversion in his head and provided her with the number, "Roughly 200,000 Galleons before fees."

She nearly choked. "HOW much?"

"That sounds about right, Miss Granger."

That woman again. Hermione felt a growl bubbling in her throat but suppressed it with no small amount of effort. "Why is this one as much as the others? You said it yourself, it's significantly smaller than they were."

The Muggle shrugged, arms wrapped snugly around her metal clipboard and a condescending smile on her face, "Location, location, location! Always location. This one is smaller, yes, but it's closer to the city proper. Really, it's quite a good deal, though I _completely_ understand if it's outside of your price range. I'm sure I can find something a bit more suitable for _you_."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the woman's _helpful_ suggestion. She hardly had any time to spit a retort before Draco's right hand covered hers where it rested on the counter and he lifted her left in such a way that her hand laid across the back of his. Her eyes shot to his profile immediately and she hissed below her breath, _"__What are you doing?!"_

The wizard leaned in, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear, rumbling his low reply, "_Solving both of our problems. Don't muck this one up like you did yesterday."_

Her sharp reply was on the tip of her tongue, but she felt him press flush against her back and was too startled to retain her suspicion. Draco so rarely ever got this close to her and she was distracted by just how _solid_ he was behind her. His chest was firm at her back and though she'd never seen him in anything beyond uniforms and dress clothes, she could _feel_ the strong, lean cords of muscle stretching with each movement.

"Look, love. It's changing your stone already. The light in this one is absolutely _brilliant_."

Hermione watched Draco tilt her hand to catch the light of the room so easily, making sure to display it blatantly to the Muggle woman. She dared a peek out of the corner of her eye and couldn't help the tiniest bit of satisfaction at seeing the realtor fighting against a frown, eyes honed in on the sizable display of the rare stone.

Yes...well maybe a bit of payback _would_ make her feel a little better.

"It's just too much to be practical, Draco." Brown eyes caught silver over her shoulder, a deviant glint in them that caused his blond brow to quirk up in interest. "We can't afford it."

Draco scoffed, lowering his voice to imitate a level of privacy even though he fully intended the other woman to hear every word. "Nonsense. If this is the one, then cost is no matter. Do you like it, my dove?"

Hermione barely contained the snort at the endearment and shook her head instead, playing the part of a hesitant home buyer and bashful lover well enough, "..it's too pricey-"

"_Hermione_," Draco raised his voice some into a more rigid tone at her faked reluctance, though the use of her first name caught both of them off guard as was evident by the quick turn of her head to catch his stare again.

The wizard had seen those eyes looking at him plenty of times, but with as wide as they were now, staring up into his so closely, he couldn't for the life of him remember noticing before how many rich shades of browns and golds actually made up their color.

She faltered under his inspection, thankful when the tension in his face released once again and his cool smirk settled back into place.

"Say the word, sweetheart, and it's yours."

Hermione forced a smile. '_Did other women really like all of this attention? It was bloody nauseating.'_ She turned her body in his arms, suddenly realizing just how tall he actually was when she had to stretch up to drape her arms over his shoulders at the most neutral point they could sit to still make the act appear intimate enough.

"_Please, _Draco? I do really like this one."

His grin appeared suddenly, _'Please? Hermione Granger saying __**please.' **_Oh how he wished that **anyone** was there to witness that one, even if it was just an act.

"Of course, kitten. _Anything_ for you," he purred with mock delight.

Hermione rolled her eyes, a movement that the Muggle woman – who was now fidgeting uncomfortably – wouldn't be able to see from their distance, and found herself smirking. He looked like a totally different person when he grinned or smiled playfully like that. It was that boy who'd been buried by responsibilities, politics, and prejudice swimming to the surface and it was a stark contrast between his normal sarcasm and snark. If she were to allow herself an opinion, she might say it looked good on him.

"Looks like we have a house then!" The realtor piped up to interrupt their sickening display before she had to witness anymore. "I'll get started on the paperwork at your word."

"_Excellent._" Draco was smirking down at the brunette witch, hands resting lightly over her hips in the dip of her waist without thinking of it, finding that they settled very easily there. He found her doing her best to stopper her grin at succeeding in their joint goal of putting the other woman in her place.

Who knew the Gryffindor Princess had a little vindictiveness in her? He thought it suited her much better than her earlier moping.

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"That would look terrible in that dining room, Granger."

"The one _you_ want is too expensive!"

"Whatever, it's not like you're paying for any of it."

"Only because the bloody contract won't let me! Honestly, it's such a waste of money. Why can't we just use what furniture we already have?"

Draco grunted and tapped the Muggle ink pen against the magazines they were looking through irritatedly, "And have it all mismatched? That would be just lovely."

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at her own magazine again, grumbling under her breath, "You're such a ponce..."

The ink pen came flying at Hermione from clear across the table to bonk her on the top of her bent head. When she shot upright she saw Draco suppressing his smirk, his fingers tapping against his own book now instead. He just looked at her and lifted a brow with a shrug before going back to viewing the pictures on the glossy pages.

A quiet moment passed between the two of them before the pen soared back across the table at Draco's perfectly parted white-blonde hair. Hermione had a solid bead on the top of his idiot head and was waiting for the satisfying thunk, but she was sorely disappointed when he leaned to one side at the last possible moment. The pen zipped by him, hit the wall behind, and clattered to her dining room floor. Draco's eyes glanced up from the book and the grin he gave her was flooring, almost so much so that she nearly forgot her agitation.

"With a little practice, Granger, you might just be able to throw a Bludger like a First Year."

Hermione flushed and huffed defensively, "Oh right, sorry. I'll get some pointers from Adrian Pucey then. He seemed to have a pretty good handle on it. Particularly when the target is your pointy git face."

Draco froze, shocked at the sharp crack of her wit for _just_ a second and then he laughed – not a snort, not a scoff, not a chuckle – an actual hearty, chest rumbling laugh full of mirth at her quip. "Have I told you yet today how much of a bitch you are?"

"Not yet," she found herself grinning, going back to flip through her magazine. "I believe you were too distracted with picking out drapes and throw pillows that match."

The wizard bit at the corner of his lip, chuckling, "Granger?"

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"You're a bitch."

"Duly noted."

Hermione flipped through several more pages, circling and marking through things, her head shooting up with a small gasp suddenly as though she recalled something very important. "Malfoy!"

Draco blinked up at her.

"You're a ponce."

He snorted.

The rest of their searching was done in amicable silence...for the next hour anyway.

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The next few days passed in relative normalcy. Hermione returned to her office on Monday, still investigating the same cursed bracelet she was working on a week ago trying to give any and all leads possible to the Aurors. Draco salvaged the proposals that were destroyed in Ginny's angry appearance and passed additional ones along to their respective departments as was usual for business.

The house buying and set up was surprisingly fast; it was amazing how universal the languages of money and power were when you needed something done quickly.

Draco received a letter from the Muggle realtor through the Wizarding Protection department – since he wasn't available via Muggle phone device – to confirm the purchase of their house. After a few more back and forth exchanges, Draco ordered and arranged the purchase and delivery of the new furniture he and Granger spent all day Sunday arguing over. He hadn't won the entire battle, but he at least got the rooms that he cared about outfitted in new things.

His old bed from his flat would be going in one of the spare bedrooms, the same with hers in the second extra room, her modest living room set would decorate the loft for a reading nook, and he would put what he could from his collection into the fourth bedroom for a study. Their master bedroom was to have entirely new furniture, as would the dining room, they'd even ordered patio furniture at the witch's insistence, and for whatever reason, Granger wanted this bulky looking bench swing for the back yard. He'd given easily to that demand though, since it was one that got him the richly colored set of curtains he wanted for the living room.

All in all, if you didn't count the intermittent yelling matches and thrown items throughout the day, it was a surprisingly civil exchange.

_'Speaking of civil...'_

Now that the housing and furniture was settled, they still had a wedding to prepare for. Sure, it was a court wedding, but they still needed to decide on a couple of details. That is what led him to Hermione's office today.

"Granger." Draco called from the doorway, having unlocked the simple charm with barely a thought.

Hermione shrieked, the items she'd been so intensely working with scattering across her desk. "MALFOY!" She growled, a hand clutched to her breast to calm her racing heartbeat. She'd been concentrating so hard on picking apart a piece of the cursed bracelet still under examination, she didn't notice him rudely inviting himself in sooner. "You know, I'm fairly positive that I shut that door. And locked it. And put a 'do not disturb' sign up."

The blonde held up the little sign he'd plucked off the door that _did_, in fact, reflect such a request and waved it at her. "This is important."

She sputtered, "Important?! I was working on a previously cursed item in here, Malfoy! If I had been doing something delicate with a live artifact, you could have just _killed_ me!"

Draco shrugged, coming inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. He made himself comfortable by sitting on the edge of her desk, reaching out to fiddle with the dissected bracelet, bare handed. "Don't get my hopes up, Granger, it's not nice." He held up the rather large diamond to the light, shifting it to and fro to look at the facets and examine the sides that looked like they were actually singed as a result of some kind of magic.

"First off, you would never have used such a feeble charm on your door if you were working on something so delicate. Second off, you wouldn't be working on it in your office. You would have been somewhere much more secure and guarded with several _real_ security measures in place. So obviously, this wasn't dangerous work, and therefore, my matter maintains its status and takes precedence."

Hermione snatched the diamond back from him and set it back in the pile of metal links. "What. Do. You. Want?"

He smiled charmingly at her, "Our wedding, _darling. _We have yet to discuss it, and while the house was a rather important decision that, thankfully resolved itself rather quickly...I dare say this is fairly important as well. So. Our wedding."

The brunette shrugged, scooping the bracelet pieces back to the center of her cleared space, cleaning up the mess with a disproportionate amount of focus on the task. "What's there to discuss? You say I do. I say I do. We get married, have...our evening together, and go about our merry way."

Draco watched her picking at the individual bits of the jewelry. She was so bloody awful at hiding her emotions.

"What are you wearing?"

Her head snapped up, a scowl in place already. "_**What?**_"

"For the wedding," he stressed as though it were obvious.

Hermione shrugged again, "I have a dress."

Draco's eyebrow lifted slowly, incredulously. "You have a wedding dress already?"

"I have a _dress," _she corrected, "This isn't a real wedding. There's no sense in getting all dressed up for it."

That part caused him to turn and examine her much more seriously. The bitterness in her tone was slightly more concealed than before, but he could still pick it out. "Granger." When she didn't stop her nervous fiddling, he stilled one of her hands, "_Granger._"

"What?!" Hermione yanked her hand away. "It's _not_. We don't love each other. We're not doing this because we want to. There's no sense in making any larger of a deal out of this than necessary, Malfoy. Just leave it."

"I don't-"

"I _**said**_ leave it," she still hadn't looked back up to him. She just shook her head, eyes still firmly set on her busy work. "...please."

Draco frowned..._deeply._ There was that dejected tone again. It was something he was becoming more and more familiar with and he didn't much care for it. This wasn't the woman that he'd hounded for a decade. This wasn't the snappy spitfire that always had a hefty bucket of sarcasm to dump all over him. This woman...she was someone completely different. Someone decidedly un-Granger.

"Well. Seeing as you're being resistant, I'll just have to purchase an appropriate gown for you."

"_What?_" Hermione's glare snapped up to him once again to find him – unsurprisingly – looking that perfect balance of smug and nonplussed that only a Malfoy could manage.

"Yes...that seems the only solution. What are you around the arse then? About 100 centimetres?"

She choked at the number, "100?! Wha-?!"

"Hmm too _small_? Oh you know, I'm rubbish at women's sizes. Really the only way to avoid an improperly fitted garment would be to go and get measured, don't you think?"

"_Malfoy,_" Hermione growled.

"Granger?"

"I'm not buying a bloody dress."

"You're right, _I'm_ buying the bloody dress."

"MALFOY!"

"Granger!" Draco purred mockingly, reveling in the familiar glare she graced upon him during so many of their spats. "Look," he leveled with her plainly, "How long have we known each other?"

"_Too_ long-"

"How many times have I ever taken no for an answer?"

"How many times have you ever _asked_ me for anything?"

He shrugged, "The question's irrelevant since the answer to both is the same. So, as we both are aware, I'm used to getting what I want. It would really behoove the situation for you to just go here-" He reached into his jacket pocket, producing an expensive looking wallet to flourish a small business card and place it in her hand. "-and get yourself fitted and discuss your options. They'll make you as plain or as magnificent a garment as you desire, but I suggest you go soon, we've got little more than a week."

"Malfoy-"

"_Hermione-_"

The sound of her name again shocked her.

For the first time since he barged into her office, she searched his face for some telltale sign as to what he was really up to. While his features hinted at nothing in specific, what she found there was that same stubbornly determined look she got whenever she set her mind to something and the realization that he would make more than good on his word to harass her until she caved made her sigh. "ALL RIGHT. Just answer me one question."

"And what's that?"

"_Why?_"

Draco pursed his lips, eying her much as she'd just done him, offering a cheeky smirk at last. "Tradition...of course."

Hermione watched him leave, sauntering in that way he always did, from her office. She sighed down at the business card, flipping it over a few times in her hand, but found herself smiling regardless. "...of course."

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**A/N: **Hello all! I just wanted to pop in for a second and say thank you again for reading and all the new favorites and follows! This one was a bit shorter than the last few chapters, but I was quickly reaching a point where it would have gotten far too long again for just the one chapter, so this was my best stopping point for the moment. The next chapter is maybe a third done or so right now, so hopefully more updates soon. As always, I hope you all know that I appreciate every one of you and please continue to read and review as you so choose. :)

-Slik


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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_**Knowing You**_

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Ginny plopped down on her sofa heavily, still in her practice gear. It was normally a house rule that sweaty pads and uniform weren't to touch the furniture, but Harry was called away on a sudden assignment so what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The redhead blew out a big breath, reclining with her arms stretched out on either side of her along the back edge of the couch. Her teammates had given her a hell of a workout today and she was sure she would be sore in the morning. She could really go for a good shower and a nice, long soak in the tub to unwind all of her muscles and ease some of the bruises that would make their appearances tomorrow and later this evening, but for now, she just wanted to _sit._

Her moment of peace was so rudely interrupted by the bright flare of the fireplace igniting with a loud crackling pop. She yelped and shot up to her feet, not expecting anyone to be coming over or calling in the middle of the week. Ginny stared hard at her fireplace until a head formed within the flames, one that she sure as all get out never expected to appear in _her_ hearth.

"Malfoy? Ferret, is that you? What in Merlin's name are you doing calling me?"

His scoff had an edge of a sizzle to it, being transmitted through the fire. "Good to see you too, Weaselette. I need to talk to you a moment. Privately." The disembodied head's eyes narrowed, "Is Potter around?"

Ginny quirked a brow at his older nickname for her but didn't correct him, "Uh, no. He's out on assignment. Also, what makes you think I'd agree to a private conversation with you?"

"If he's not home, technically, you're already having one now. So why not cut out the middle man, or the Floo, as it were, and let me come over so I can get my head out of the fireplace?"

The woman shot him a look that she hoped he could see clearly enough, "You're _not_ coming over to my house, Malfoy."

"Why the bloody hell not? I mean, shit, you _already_ have access to my new home. It's in the contract."

"I don't trust you. You might do something..._suspect_."

"_**ME**_ do something-?!" The head sizzled and sputtered, "This coming from the bint that nearly disintegrated me in my own damned office."

Ginny grinned fondly, "Yeah that was a good day, wasn't it?" She shook her head again. "Not happening, ferret."

An exasperated sigh made a few embers snap out of the hearth. "It's about everyone's favorite little know-it-all, so unless you want me to talk all about it and chance someone overhearing-"

"Has something happened?!" Just the nameless mention of the witch, sobered her disposition immediately.

"No, nothing..._yet_."

"Malfoy, you tell me what's going on or so help me I'll-"

"What? You'll what?" Draco teased, his signature smirk clear even through the fiery shape of his head. "You'll 'not invite me over' harder?"

Ginny's expression soured, mulling over the consequences of opening access to this incorrigible man. Harry would've never allowed it, normally _she_ never would have even considered it...but if it was about Hermione... '_Oh sod it!'_ "Alright, prick. Where are you calling from?"

"My office."

"Right, pull your fool head out and I'll give you access. But you better not try anything!"

Draco snorted, several tiny embers crackled out from the image of him at the sound. "Like what? Silence your house and try to _reducto_ you to death? Wouldn't dream of it, pet. Also, my contract states that if not truly friendly, I must at least be 'cordial'...so I'll fake it for you."

Ginny rolled her eyes and grumbled as she went about setting up permissions on her end to open access to and from Draco's office to her living room, hoping that she wouldn't regret it. After several minutes when he finally appeared through a rush of emerald shaded flames dusting off his suit, she greeted him with folded arms and an openly hostile look.

"Well?"

"Well what?" The blonde tapped the toe of each foot to the stones as he exited to shake off the soot from the Potter's fireplace and sneered. "Were you expecting a left hook to the jaw? It's not really my style to punch a woman but if you'd really like me to return the favor..."

"Oh shut it, ya git! What news did you have about Hermione?"

"We're getting married."

The witch blinked, waiting for him to elaborate. When he just blinked back at her with a raised eyebrow, her eyes narrowed. "Yes. I'm aware. And?"

"Yes..._and_ she needs a dress. I gave her the card to my seamstress' shop earlier today and I have no doubts that she will do everything in her power to _not_ go. I need you to make sure she actually does."

Ginny guffawed. "_That's _your grand news? Your scheme? You want me to help you play dress up with my best friend?" She chortled and shook her head, one hand holding her stomach and the other waving about in the air as she turned, dismissing him, "Good _bye_ Malfoy."

Draco grabbed the woman's wrist without thinking, earning him an extremely dark warning look. The single action drained any humor surrounding them immediately and he released her just as quickly, understanding his misstep. Both hands held up in a placating gesture, he shook his head.

"If you don't want to make your best friend happy, fine. But nobody can say that I didn't try."

"What are you talking about?"

"You heard me."

"What about buying a dress is going to make _Hermione_ happy?"

Draco folded his arms and leaned against the mantle, looking at the redhead's questioning expression. She seemed genuinely clueless and the blank stare – one he was much more used to seeing in the older Weasel – somehow was able to ruffle his feathers.

"Are you all really that thick?"

Ginny was growing noticeably more irritated the more words dribbled out of the blonde's face. "Fuck off."

"I'm serious," he growled back. "Am I honestly the only one that has noticed how much this is affecting her?"

"How _dare_ you! Of course we notice!"

"Really? Alright then, have any of you so called friends of hers bothered to figure out why?"

The redhead snorted, "I should think it's obvious. She _is_ having to marry YOU, after all. And with what happened in The Minister's office at your last meeting.."

Draco looked at her like she's just said the sky was made of puffins. "Bloody hell...you all really are that oblivious aren't you? No wonder she's so fucking miserable if her own friends don't get it."

Ginny's scowl for the blonde wizard had morphed into one so intense, it really could only be outdone by the witch who was the current topic of discussion. "That's it. Get out of my house."

He ignored her. "Clearly she and I are both unhappy to have to wed, but if you'll recall, she was up in arms before we even knew that juicy detail."

"But we found out why she was so upset when you met with Kingsley-"

"Oh please. Do you honestly believe that's the _only_ reason why? Merlin, how can she surround herself with you people? You're all so bloody thick! Since when has Hermione bleedin' Granger been so simple? She's as complex as the stone on her finger with too many shades and facets to count!"

The observation caught Ginny flatfooted. She never thought Malfoy paid any attention to her friend beyond picking out the things that would anger her the most so he could store it and use it for ammunition at a later time. The fact that he apparently understood something about Hermione that she didn't, rubbed her the wrong way.

Ginny frowned, "What do you mean?"

"What do I-," he grunted and shook his head with a dark chuckle, "Red, when you married Potter, how did you feel?"

"What? Why-"

"Just answer the question," he snapped.

The witch sat herself on the arm of her couch, arms crossed impatiently. "Happy?"

"Just happy?"

"Fine, I was fucking _elated! _I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"And why were you so _'elated'_?" He led her through the conversation slowly, expectantly.

Ginny sighed and actually thought about it for a couple of minutes to formulate her answer. This new 'cordial' Draco was a bit unsettling, but with stubbornness to rival Hermione's own, the sooner she answered his questions, the sooner she'd be rid of him. "It was something I'd wanted for a while, I guess. I was excited that we were finally getting married. I was excited that it was Harry. I was getting to live out my dream wedding."

Draco grimaced at the wistful tone the redhead's voice had taken on, not truly understanding a woman's preoccupation with the wedding ceremony but knowing that, whatever the reason, it was oftentimes a big deal. "Right. And what does Granger have with this one? With me?"

It took a few minutes, but realization dawned on the girl in stages. Draco watched them all, expression by expression, guessing at which points she was cycling through in her head. He, himself, just from observing Hermione's declining mood and lackluster comebacks over the last week, had come to some conclusions on his own about the witch. If he were to venture a guess, particularly after the knowledge of her saving herself for marriage came out, there were aspects of this whole marriage thing that weren't being fulfilled for her own 'dream wedding' – aside from the obvious – that were at the root of her dispassionate moods.

"Shit. Fuck, why didn't I even think of this..." Ginny slid from the arm of the couch onto the cushions, deflating like a balloon.

Draco shrugged, "Sometimes the most obvious things need pointing out by someone the least emotionally invested in it. Don't feel _too_ bad, Red, I AM also brilliant after all."

Ginny focused her attention back on the blonde, really examining him and the way he was leaning so casually against her mantle, speaking about her friend with a disturbing amount of insight. Cordial or not, it was too weird...and extremely suspicious. "Why are you acting like you care about Hermione?"

The question didn't really surprise him, though he feigned ignorance. "You think I'm really so cold hearted as to completely disregard the needs of my future wife?"

"Yes." At Draco's sigh and shrug, Ginny pressed further, her protective side surfacing more to push aside her embarrassment and growing shame at not understanding her friend's moods as she should have. "You've been much more concerned about her than you're capable of – what gives?"

Draco sneered at the spoken implication that he was truly concerned about _her_, even if the thought of her shuffling about her office with that downtrodden slump to her shoulders made the pit of his stomach churn.

"You misunderstand me. I'm just trying to get through this whole thing unscathed and I like to _**pick**_ my battles. I don't need her taking out all of her bitterness on me for the rest of our lives when it's HER friend and your happy lot that are really to blame for all of it." He flashed her a smile that was all perfectly straight, pearly white teeth and full of malice, "If I've at least done my part to make it easier on her up front, she can't really fault me, now can she? Happy wife, happy life, Potterette."

Ginny's expression darkened at his sing-song mockery, "You really are a useless snake!"

"At least I don't pretend I'm her best friend, yet apparently notice less about her problems than someone she shares a mutual hatred with."

The redhead was on her feet. Her growing stiffness of her recovering muscles forgotten, she snarled at the wizard, "OUT, you smarmy prick!"

Draco gave her one last pleasant, charming, and perfectly _cordial_ smile, "Make sure she goes, Red." He wiggled his fingers at her in a condescending wave, "See you around."

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"No. Absolutely not! I can't believe you're even coming to me with this!"

"Hermione, just listen a moment will you?"

"NO! WHY are you even listening to anything that MALFOY of all people tells you? Since when did you two become all buddy-buddy?"

Ginny was watching Hermione bustle about in her kitchen, fixing snacks for them to eat during movie night. The girl propped her head up on the heels of her hands, elbows braced on the breakfast bar counter so she could peer at her from the small dining area.

"I'm not listening to him about anything. I just think...well I think he may actually be right about this." Ginny frowned. "Just never tell _anyone_ I said that. Ever."

Hermione huffed, "Last time I checked, that would be considered listening. And I'll say it again, it's just a waste of time, effort, and money – on all our parts! It's just a dress! I just want this to be over so I can go back to normal. I never wanted any of this. I don't want him. I don't want his money. I don't want his bloody dress! I don't want any of it!" She slammed down the metal bowl full of popcorn so firmly that several popped kernels went flying back into her face.

The redhead resisted chuckling at her friend's sputter, but reached across the counter to still her hands, "Hermione...if it's just a dress, then why are you so upset?"

Hermione didn't want to look up. She didn't want to see the look she knew that she would see. Pity. Sympathy. Sadness. She was doing the best that she could to just carry on, but there were so many reminders that manifested themselves on their own – without their added _pity_ – she didn't need to keep seeing it. The concern was touching and she appreciated it, but really, she would just like to get on with her bloody life.

"You know...it's not too late to get them and bring them back. There's plenty of time before the deadline and even if there weren't, I'm sure you could file for an extension!"

The brunette sighed, exasperated, finally pulling her gaze up to meet her friend's; it was exactly what she expected to see. "Gin...please. Not tonight. Can we just watch the movie?"

Ginny nodded with a sigh that mirrored hers, "I just hate seeing you like this."

"I know...and thank you...but I would prefer to just forget about it."

The redheaded witch nodded again and helped Hermione move their snacks and drinks into her living room in front of the TV – Ginny's favorite Muggle contraption to date. Hermione started the movie - some romance about a wedding singer that gets dumped at the altar and falls in love with a waitress he meets at his job - it was an easy going kind of movie night tonight and this one just hit the spot. The women settled in on the cushions of Hermione's couch, the only noises coming from the telly and crunching of popcorn.

Hermione felt the other woman glancing over to her periodically throughout the first ten or twenty minutes of the flick. The quiet went from a comfortable familiarity to something strained and awkward until she grunted, "Are you going to say something or just keep looking at me and pretending like I can't see it every bloody time?"

"Sorry," Ginny flushed. She thought she'd been rather stealthy in her inspection actually. "I really just actually think he's right. As much as I hate to admit it, I do. I think you deserve this. If you can't have anything else, at least you can have _this_. And really, it's on Malfoy's dime, so why the hell not? He's loaded! I mean if there's any perk to being shacked up with him, at least there's that."

"Just because he's 'loaded', Gin, doesn't mean that I should take advantage of it. I don't WANT to take advantage of it. As it is, he made me agree to him paying for pretty much everything once we're married. Just like this damned law, it's an ancient way of thinking and it's disgusting!"

She shrugged, speaking around another mouthful of half-chewed buttery mess, "After all he's done to you in the past, it's really the LEAST he can do! He owes this to you."

Hermione held back her sneer at the way her friend spoke with her mouth full, the act reminded her too much of someone else. "He was just a boy, we were all just kids. He doesn't owe me anything."

Ginny snorted, nearly choking on her snack. After clearing the clog from her throat with a sip of her water, she resumed her noshing. "You're the only one that thinks that way, you know."

"Maybe that's part of the problem.." Hermione mumbled, mostly to herself.

"How's that?"

The witch shook her head, doing her best to ignore the occasional waterfall of chipped kernels fluttering down from Ginny's hand when she tried to shove too much in her mouth at once. "Nothing."

"Alright...but for the record, I still think you should go. If nothing else, how many opportunities in your life do you really have to go and get your wedding dress made from scratch without cost being a factor?"

Hermione threw up her arms in surrender, "OKAY! Merlin's sake, I'll go. But you're coming with me so for every minute – every SECOND – of misery I have to go through to get fitted for this bloody thing, you'll be there to hear me bitch and moan and whine about it first hand.

Ginny beamed brightly at the concept of the dress fitting, "Thought you'd never ask!"

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"You didn't tell me that his 'seamstress' is _Endora Roux_." Ginny was staring at the shop front in awe, suddenly feeling FAR too underdressed.

Hermione looked at the signage with the same amount of disinterest she had since the whole idea of a dress fitting was brought up. She shrugged. "Should I know who that is?"

The redhead stopped her friend when she started walking forward, turning her by the shoulders to face her. "_Hermione._ Endora Roux is one of wizarding Britain's highest profile DESIGNERS. She's created some of the finest and most beautiful wedding gowns in EXISTENCE. She's not just a seamstress, Malfoy gets his clothes made by someone who's practically a celebrity!"

Hermione blanched, looking at the deceptively simple entry way. The exterior of the building was just a smooth black marble surface with mirrored glass double doors and the name of shop – _la roux –_ hanging above them in the center, the words in an elegant lowercase script. She knew anyone Malfoy patronized for those obnoxiously stunning suits he always wore would be expensive...she just never realized _how expensive_.

The brunette frowned and grumbled, "Now I _really_ don't want to go..."

Ginny's eyes lit up and she faced her friend back to the doors, "Uh uh, no way! Now we HAVE to go! You're going to have a one-of-a-kind dress made by ENDORA ROUX!"

Hermione eyed her friend who was practically bouncing out of her skin with excitement. Her lip curled ever so slightly, "Great..."

Hermione had no more say in the matter as Ginny started shoving her forward, through the doors, and into the too decadent reception area. The reception desk was huge and expensive looking, just like everything else in the place. It was made of the same black marble as the exterior of the building and set on cool gray tile. To either side of the entry doors were small waterfalls built into the sides of the building, offering a soothing trickle of water. Decorative potted plants lined the front area and from what Hermione could see on either side of the desk where the shop stretched back beyond a dark dividing wall, there were several fashionably posed mannequins. Each of them were so fantastically clothed, if she were to guess, she would say that one frock would be worth more than nearly her entire wardrobe.

"Names?"

Hermione's eyes snapped back to the large reception desk, finally noticing a very well dressed woman behind it. With the way the woman looked both her and Ginny over, one word floated to the front of her mind: _bitch_. "Uh...Hermione Granger."

The bitch's eyes darted to Ginny next. She stammered and pointed back to Hermione, "I'm with her."

The receptionist scanned over a ledger in front of her, one finely manicured finger dancing across what had to have been dozens of names, not bothering to entertain them with small talk while she searched the list. The air between them was tense and awkward.

"You're not on the list. Did you have an appointment?"

Hermione frowned, more at the tone in the girl's words than the question itself. "No. I wasn't aware I needed to make one." _'Fucking Malfoy..._'

The girl scoffed prettily – Hermione ventured a guess that this woman did _everything_ prettily.

"You can't just walk into _**la roux**_ without an appointment. This isn't some side shop where you can shuffle rack to rack. Perhaps you should check where you're actually supposed to be next time."

Ginny started in on her first, a growl on her lips, "Look here you little-"

"Gin! Forget it. Let's go. Malfoy never mentioned anything about an appointment.." Hermione mumbled to her friend, doing her best to turn her around despite how much the redhead was urging herself forward with malicious intent.

"_Malfoy? Did I hear someone say Malfoy, Fiona?"_

The girl at the desk shot up stock straight at the voice coming from somewhere behind the divider, her answer came quickly and was completely devoid of the previous attitude it held before. "Yes, Madame. This woman...here, it was her."

There was a bit of shuffling after the receptionist's response and shortly after, an older woman, about Hermione's height, appeared from the back end of the shop. Her clothes were simple in comparison to everything else that was visible in this shop. The lady wore a comfortable and loose, but not baggy, deep burgundy tunic, sleek black capris, and plain black ballet flats. Her hair was done up in a high and tight bun and while it was mostly gray, she had streaks of fading red and auburn throughout.

"Hermione Granger?" The woman smiled warmly, one hand extending out, urging the girl forward.

Ginny's anger sputtered out of her at the sight of the small, older lady, instantly knowing Endora Roux for who she was. When Hermione didn't answer right away, she shoved her forward, pulling an automatic response from her friend at the movement.

"Ah, yes, sorry, yes. I'm Hermione Granger."

"Oh! Excellent, such a pleasure to meet you, young lady. I've been waiting for you."

"B-but Madame, her name wasn't on the list."

"_Hush_ child," Endora's voice snapped, going from warm and welcoming, to stern and cold instantly when she addressed Fiona. "Have you been living under a rock for your entire life, girl? Have you no idea who this is?"

Fiona's eyes grew to huge proportions and her complexion paled noticeably. She looked back to Hermione again, clad in her flouncy blouse, Muggle jeans, and cross trainers and obviously had absolutely no clue who she was.

Endora snorted, walking further into the waiting area to take up Hermione's hand, shaking it lightly and placing a hand between her shoulder blades to start guiding her back into her studio. "Why am I not surprised? They don't teach anything important in schools anymore." She sent a hard sidelong look to Fiona who was trying to remain so still but had begun to tremble. "Perhaps you should read the paper, dear. Miss Granger played a pivotal point in securing our freedom in the last war. She's only almost constantly at the head of a huge story every day. You know...the brains behind _Harry Potter__'s _victory over You-Know-Who?"

Fiona's skin grew impossibly more pale, eyes now taking up most of her face as the names all clicked together. Her mouth started moving, maybe in way of an apology or...really anything, but nothing came out save for a squeak.

Ginny was beaming proudly behind the brunette who was looking more and more uncomfortable as the older witch talked up her achievements. When neither of the other witches were looking, she pointed rudely at Fiona, mouthing the word _Yeah_ rather smugly.

"She's also Draco Malfoy's fiancee," Endora added offhandedly, but the pleasure she took in seeing the young witch looking as though she were about to faint was obvious. "Hmm...you don't look well dear. Perhaps you should take the rest of the day off. Go ahead and go home and lock up the front if you would? I won't be seeing my other appointments today."

Fiona eventually came back to herself, sputtering and nodding because that's all she could manage. "Y-yes Madame."

Once the receptionist was finally gone, having done well by not just running from the building in light of her blatant misstep, Endora smiled that warm smile once again to both Ginny and Hermione. "Sorry about that. She's my niece. Family obligations you know. She's not really the brightest bauble in the bunch."

Hermione just nodded dumbly, unsure as to precisely what just happened.

Ginny was buzzing with excitement, just about ready to explode at the fact that _Endora Roux_ knew who her best friend was.

"Oh! My apologies. What was your name, dear?"

"Ginny-Ah! I mean Ginevra! Ginevra Potter. It's such an honor to meet you Madame Roux!"

"Potter? OH! Mrs. Potter!" Endora reached out and took Ginny's hand, shaking hers excitedly, guiding her further into the studio just as she had with Hermione. "I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize you out of uniform. I have a box at the home stadium for the Holyhead Harpies! Goodness...sorry, so sorry I can't believe I didn't place you immediately. You'll have to excuse me, the mind is the first to go, you know." The witch grinned brightly and made her way back beyond the divider wall. "Come on girls. Let's go talk about dresses!"

The redhead stood stunned for a moment before she found her legs and re-learned how to walk once again. "Merlin's beard...Endora Roux knows who I am..."

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"Madame Roux-"

"Endora! Please, call me Endora."

Hermione grinned from the other side of her teacup, her experience at this fitting _nothing_ like she was imagining. "Endora...I gather that the shop is named after you, obviously."

The older witch nodded.

"But is there a reason why everything seems to just be black and gray and..._steel_ for the decorations? There's not one thing here that's red aside from some of the clothing. Well...and this couch."

Endora grinned and nodded again. "Yes...the marketing team seemed to think that 'red' wasn't classy enough. The black and gray or black and white was all the rage at the time so we went with that and it kind of stuck. I guess it's a fair enough assessment though," she tugged at one of the few remaining clusters of red in her hair, "I've never been a very classy woman."

Ginny snorted, motioning to her own hair with a bright smile, "That makes two of us!"

The woman cackled, slapping a knee and setting her tea back onto the nearby coffee table. "As pleasant as it has been chatting with you girls, I believe you came here for a reason, yes? Draco sent me an owl asking if I would be able to provide you with a unique wedding dress for your upcoming union! Of course I jumped at the chance – I've been clothing the Malfoy's for the longest while."

Hermione's smile lessened, remembering something from the near altercation at the front of the shop. "Endora...when you were talking to your niece-"

"Fiona? Yes dear, what of her?"

"You mentioned..._us_...Harry, Ron, and I...being responsible for your freedom. It really – excuse me if this is inappropriate – but it struck me as odd. What did you mean? Volde-" Hermione paused when she saw the older woman flinch, "_You-Know-Who_ only really had it out for my kind...Muggle-borns and Muggles..."

The witch nodded and reached forward to pat her arm, trying to soothe some of the discomfort from the young witch. "I'm Muggle-born, dear, much like yourself. Fiona is a Half-blood and, while they weren't in as great danger as ones like you and I during the last couple of wars, it was no picnic."

Ginny looked surprised, "You're not a Pureblood?" She asked the question then had the decency to look embarrassed. "S-sorry! I didn't mean that to sound like that. It's just...for someone creating clothing for the Malfoy's especially..."

Endora reclined once again on her spot on the sofa, if she'd been offended it didn't show. "It's not a widely known fact, honestly. Marketing thought that would be an _unfortunate_ thing to broadcast if the goal was to thrive in the world of fashion."

"How nice. Hiding it, like it's some sort of a disease," Hermione spat out the words before she could stopper them. She looked bashful for just a second but shook it off – she was nothing but proud of her heritage and would never have let anyone in advertising tell her to hide!

"Yes...well at the time, it may as well have been. The magical world wasn't nearly as liberal as it is now, Miss Granger. Like you, I went to school with my Pureblooded and Half-blooded peers, but back then, there weren't nearly as many laws and rules and regulations in place to protect Muggle-born witches or wizards like there are today. My family was fairly poor as well, you see, so even in the least favored group in attendance, I was at the bottom of the barrel. My parents were tradespeople...so they did what they could to pay for my tuition." Endora smiled wistfully, thinking back to some time long, long ago.

Hermione felt bad then, not even having bothered to think about it like that. It was hard enough to maintain equality in this day and age, she could only imagine the predicament several decades ago. "I'm sorry...that was out of line.."

The witch shook her head, "Don't be! I am not ashamed of what I am Miss Granger, I never have been. While I agreed to not announce my heritage as an opener to my clients, never once have I hidden it. My parents taught me everything I know in this trade and I let that speak for itself. The people are usually far too busy prancing around in their fancy clothes to worry about what _kind_ of blood was in the 'blood, sweat, and tears' bit that created it." Endora flashed both girls a wicked smile, "Though it is very satisfying at times to see the most stalwart of purists, proudly flashing around the expensive label of a Muggle-born seamstress."

Ginny laughed a hearty deep-bellied laugh that lasted for minutes, almost inappropriately so, even having to wipe the remnants of tears from the corners of her eyes thinking about that picture. She leaned in conspiratorially, nudging both herself and Hermione closer to Endora, "So...you've been sewing for the Malfoy's a while you said. Do _they_ know?"

"Oh yes. They are quite aware. Lucius especially...I think he threatened to 'fire me' as the family's seamstress and designer once but I'm almost positive that ended with an earful from Narcissa. She wasn't willing to give up all of her dresses that she always loves to order for her socials and things, so he just avoids the subject as much as possible."

The witch crooked her finger and beckoned the other girls even closer, lowering her voice to a mock whisper and looking around her shop with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Whenever I know he's coming over, I set out my family pictures of my mum and dad and make sure that there's always at least _one_ in sight at any given time for wherever I need to do his fittings."

The trio of women all had a good cackle over that.

Hermione was kept chuckling at the thought of the way the eldest Malfoy's jaw would tighten and he would sputter when someone would contradict him in front of others or generally do anything that would make him look a fool. The thought was sobering when Hermione realized that, _that_ particular git was soon to be her father-in-law. The mirth drained right out of her.

"What about Malfoy? I-I mean, Draco. He knows as well?"

"Oh yes," the witch nodded, sensing Hermione's shift in mood quite easily. "He's never been anything but a polite young man, though."

Hermione looked at the witch like her hair had just all turned red once again and ignited into flames. "Draco? _Draco Malfoy_ knows that you're Muggle-born and he's been _**polite**_?"

Endora snorted a chuckle, patting Hermione's knee again with a wink. "Yes, child. He's very charming actually. You've caught yourself quite a man."

"Draco _Lucius_ Malfoy? We ARE talking about the same Draco? The one that I grew up with?"

"YES," Endora laughed again, pushing to her feet and stretching a bit, finally ready to get to work.

"No offense intended, Endora, but why would Draco actually be polite to you? What with his upbringing and all.." She grumbled below her breath, more to herself than anyone else, "He's never been anything but a little rat's arse to me..."

The witch shook her head and shuffled around, collecting her measuring tape and parchment as well as a few other things. "Because I make his mother happy, of course! He's nothing if not a momma's boy, that one."

Ginny snickered, the snickers dissolving into just a few snorts of amusement at a sharp elbowing from Hermione.

Endora unfurled her measuring tape, set Hermione's teacup on the nearby table, and coaxed her onto her feet to lead her onto a small velvet covered box set in front of a wall of angled mirrors. She hummed to herself as she started on getting Hermione's measurements, a floating pad of paper and quill scribbling out the numbers as she called them out.

"I suppose he's a bit traditional in that sense," the older witch commented idly.

Endora nudged and posed Hermione all kinds of ways in order to take all the measurements she needed and some to grow on. In all the tilting and turning, Hermione caught the sparkle of her ring in the mirror. She looked down to see what sunlight filtering in from the shop's few windows, catching the alexandrite and deepening its color to a rich and smooth emerald shade.

"He is, at that."

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Draco swaggered up to Hermione's office door, this time instead of a big 'do not disturb' sign, it said 'out to lunch'. He peered past the paper stuck to the door and saw a little blurred blob moving occasionally. He shook his head and waved his wand over the knob to unlock her door. When he tried to open it, he found it was still tightly locked and shut.

Draco smirked, _'L__ooks like she intensified her security.__'_

He heard a click from the other side of the door and her voice called out.

"Come in, Malfoy."

Draco presented her with a brilliant, if not condescending, smirk. "Why Granger, how did you know it was me?"

"There's only one blonde headed git that tries to unlock my door when there is signage up that clearly indicates I want to be left alone. Call it an educated guess." She mocked his statement from days ago.

The wizard chuckled, closing the door behind him and settling himself into one of the chairs facing her desk. Just as the sign insinuated, she'd been eating her lunch – some kind of homemade sandwich – and reading one of her reference books. Apparently she was still researching information on the bracelet the Aurors had found; this woman never shut _off_.

"A little bird told me – quite literally, via letter – that you went to visit Endora the other day. Did she get you all taken care of?"

Hermione eyed Draco, she'd expected to see him smirking over at her in that superior way he always did, so his look of careful curiosity was a bit surprising. She finished chewing her latest bite, marked her place in her book, and set it aside. "I did and, unfortunately, she did."

Draco's smirk did appear then at that news. "Good. I take it you took the Potterette with you? The charges to my account were a bit exorbitant for just one dress, even if it _was_ a wedding gown."

"I did." She leaned back in her ratty office chair, swiveling and providing him with a smug look of her own. "Endora insisted that she fit Ginny as well. Turns out she's quite a big Quidditch fan. She was going to do the dress for her at cost, but I told her I wouldn't hear of it and that my _husband-to-be_ would be so very happy to provide my Maid of Honor with a gown as well at her normal rates."

For the second time that day, Draco surprised her.

Hermione expected one of their usual rows to follow at charging tens of thousands of Galleons to his account without his consent, but he just laughed instead. That was certainly not the reaction _she_ would've had. Somehow the idea that he was so unconcerned about his finances made HER angry instead. She knew that the Malfoy's were rich, though she had no clue just how rich they actually were. Even still, the fact that he was so blase by the sudden monetary loss made her frown – it may also have been, at least in part, because her payback was wholly ineffective...just a little.

Draco was amused at the play of emotions on the witch's face. In truth, he would've been livid had he not authorized the charges to go through himself. Endora sent him notice that the _dress__**es**_ were started and when he made to investigate, he confirmed the purchases for her service and materials. He had already been thinking of what kind of reward he could provide the She-Potter if she came through on her assigned task and this seemed fitting enough, so he saw no need to deny it.

"So she's your Maid of Honor now? What happened to the court wedding?"

Hermione shrugged and continued her idle swiveling with a little frown, "It was just something to say."

"Would you like a real wedding?" The words slipped out before he knew it. _'Bloody traitorous tongue...oh well.'_

She stopped mid-turn. "What?"

"You heard me. Did you want an actual wedding?" Draco's head tilted to one side inquisitively and he was very careful to keep his normal mocking tones out of his question. After his conversation with the redhead, he'd been thinking about it and became genuinely curious if his theories he spouted off about Hermione were true.

"No," her answer was too quick. "No, of course not."

His head tilted in the other direction now, the look changing to disbelief. "Granger. I've been honest with you-"

"Yes, honesty was precisely how you didn't tell me your seamstress wasn't a _seamstress_ but one of the most sought out designers in wizarding Britain." Hermione bristled at nearly being made to look like a fool. She was sure she would've been if Ginny hadn't have been there with her.

He shrugged. "She's _also_ seamstress. She sews, so technically she's a seamstress. Not a lie."

"I don't need a real wedding." She went back to answer his original question quite harshly.

"You don't _need_ one, no. Do you WANT one? If you do, you need to tell me now. We have less than a week now to arrange it all and money can accomplish many things but there's only so much time."

"No, Malfoy, we just need to go in, say our vows, and get it done. We don't need to worry about a ceremony, and gowns, and flowers-"

"Don't lie to me, Granger." Draco's voice was a cold, sudden snap, halting her words with ones she uttered herself at the start of this mess.

Hermione saw him glaring at her from across the desk and he looked the most offended she'd ever recalled seeing him. There was no sneer and he wasn't really scowling, just hard, gray eyes boring into her own. His gaze didn't falter, didn't flicker, just stared continuously at her face, holding an indignant air to it. The strangest thing about it, was that he wasn't mocking her in any way for her continued resistance, but genuinely seemed displeased that she was playing down the event so.

"What do you want me to say?" Hermione diverted lamely, earning her a dark scowl this time. She huffed and folded her arms.

"It's not about what I want, this is about you, Granger. You only get one of these and I _know_ you don't just want to walk up to the official, say 'I do', go home, get shagged, and forget about it all."

Draco's firm and honest reply shook her. She thought she was much better at hiding her thoughts and feelings than that. If Malfoy could just up and read her like a bloody book, she really must be fucking pitiful. The protest was forming in her mouth, hovering on the tip of her tongue, but she just saw him glaring again – glaring because she kept trying to spout lies to the only unfortunate individual who actually bothered to be unwaveringly honest with zero regards for her feelings at the time.

Hermione sighed, deflated, "No, I don't just want that. Of course I don't. But you shouldn't worry about it."

Hermione slumped back in her chair, focused on a spot in the center of her desk that didn't actually exist as she picked at and crumbled the crust of her sandwich. So intent on the task was she, that she didn't even notice when Draco moved around the desk to stand between the small space of her and the furniture. She only stopped the nervous movements when his hand covered hers and made her drop the rest of the crumbs. Her frown was instant, her mouth opening to grouch at him but he spoke first.

"We're not friends." Draco plopped her hand back into her own lap and took a seat on her desk facing her, arms folded in his while he looked down at her critically. "We're not lovers. We're barely coworkers that manage to exist in the same space for any amount of time without fighting. But you _are_ going to be my wife. There's nothing that either of us can do about that now. You and I both have done far too many things that we've HAD to do because of the people who've felt it was their duty to control us – friends, family," He thought about the witch's brief public relationship with that idiot Weasel and sneered, "_Other_...this is your chance to do something that you actually want to do in the midst of all this public duty bullshit.

I'm not your first choice of partners, believe me, I understand; I don't look at you and see sunshine and roses either, but this is your last and only chance I'm offering, Granger. I won't be yet another face in the crowd forcing you to do something for your own good – I don't bloody care about _your own good, _I'm just not fucking blind and ignorant like the rest of your stupid friends and I've got the bollocks to say and do something about it so you stop being such a fucking killjoy. So...I'll ask once more, do you want a real wedding?"

The witch's forehead creased at the words. It was so seldom that Draco would be this serious about anything, serious to the point where he had much less of his sarcastic tint coloring any of his speech; she'd only seen it a handful of times in their working career and it was always a shock.

Hermione exhaled slowly and frowned up at him, hating herself for the vulnerability she knew was creeping to the surface no matter how hard she tried to press it back down. She'd wanted this for as long as she could remember, since she was a little girl. The fact that it was going to happen now, without her parents to see, to be there, she was torn between still having the ceremony and just letting it all go. She truly wanted it – _so badly_ – especially if it was just to happen the once, but there was so much that wouldn't be right even if they did have a real wedding.

"Yes...Malfoy, I do...but it isn't really your problem. Please don't make it a big deal. There are..." she swallowed, pushing the details into a compartment in her mind where she kept tucking things away, "...there are some things we just can't have, no matter how much we want them, and I won't ask you to pay for any kind of expensive ceremony anyway. I just want to get what we need to get done, _done,_ as low profile as possible and call it a night." The whole thing sounded completely unconvincing, even to her.

Draco chuckled, "Low profile? Us? Between your activist groups and me being..._**me**_? You really think that's even possible?"

Hermione acknowledged him with her own soft chuckle and a shake of her head. She turned her chair away towards the janky little office window, resisting as best she could her urge to fiddle with the band on her finger.

The wizard examined her profile, her eyes slipping between watching the colors of the alexandrite stone shift and focusing on idle happenings somewhere down on the streets. He looked then to his clasped hands, willing away the clenching in his chest at the sad way she'd spoken about their pending union. Draco didn't care personally. He knew his mother would prefer something much more formal than a court wedding to fawn over – even if it was with this assigned witch – but ultimately he'd always been expecting the position of leaving the details of the entire thing to his bride-to-be. There was just something so nagging and unpleasant to parts of him that this particular, unexpected, bride-to-be was so willing to let her own desires slink past her. Wasn't this supposed to be her day anyway? That's what he'd always heard from his mother and female schoolmates whenever they would blather on about weddings and babies and whatnot anyway.

The ever growing urge to make that dismal and distant gaze in her eyes disappear spurred his decision and made his mouth betray him once again.

"Make your guest list and name your wedding party. Give me the names of the flowers and colors you want for the theme. Options for a venue will be limited with such short notice, but I'm sure we can find something reasonable. I also need to know if you'll want a proper reception and what you want for that as well. I'll need them as soon as possible...tomorrow would be optimal."

Hermione turned back to him again with a look like he'd just spoken in tongues. "But I told you-"

"You told me you wanted a real wedding," he shrugged nonchalantly, "And it so happens that I do as well. I'm sure you won't begrudge me a ceremony. Unless you're planning on being a real bitch about it, then really that can't be helped I suppose."

The look he gave her at the last bit took her so off guard she didn't even react, just stared slack-jawed at his serious face. _'Wait...what?'_ When she didn't respond, he took her lack of protest as agreement and made moves to get up to leave. She followed his swift steps and caught him by the sleeve, expecting his sneer at the contact but just getting a rather even tempered, yet questioning look.

"Don't do this because of me." Hermione searched his features for signs of trickery, mockery, or Merlin help her, pity – one emotion she'd never once seen from him directed towards her – she found none of these things. She was both relieved and totally confused.

Draco plucked her hand from his suit, his gray eyes caught the sight of their hands next to each other and he thought the picture of how petite she actually was next to him odd and not at all proportional to the presence the woman carried. His grip lingered a little longer than necessary. It took him mulling over the steady warmth radiating from her dainty wrist against his fingers before he realized he still held her and he practically jerked away.

He smiled charmingly down at her to cover for startling himself, voice smooth as silk, "Tell me no."

Hermione's mouth opened, but nothing came out. The word wouldn't form, refusing to let her voice the protest. She wasn't used to this version of Draco, it was unfamiliar and different but almost..._nice_.

Looking up to him here in the small confines of her office she was less surprised by his height than the last time they were so close. Without the added audience of a snooty Muggle realtor, this time she did allow herself the briefest moment to admire his expression. It lightened the weight he carried on his shoulders and that which she saw lurking in his eyes when his walls would thin and his patience would grow short around her. It did suit him, she thought, much better than his normal sneer.

"You've been uncharacteristically accommodating of my needs and wants. I think you're up to something."

Draco grinned, a mischievous light igniting in his eyes, "Why Granger, what ever would make you suspect such a thing? Is it a crime to try to make my bride happy?"

She ignored the question, countering with one of her own, "If I told you no, would you listen?"

His head tilted to one side, "I would listen with the same frequency in which I always listen to you."

"So never," she couldn't help her smirk. "Dare I ask what's made you suddenly want a ceremony?"

"I should think it would be obvious," the cool gray of his gaze scanned over her face, finding her spreading grin and quirk of a dark brow enjoyable despite himself.

"Let me guess, tradition?"

"Something like that." Draco felt his lips curl up at the sides, smile returning at her playful snark.

Hermione laughed softly at his secretive purr. "You're incorrigible."

He shrugged, "That's probably the least offensive thing you've called me in a while. I think you may be losing your touch."

Draco nudged her chin up to look at him with the crook of a finger, her stare having drifted to her hands as they messed with the hem of her blouse the way they did when she'd somehow become the center of anyone's attention. He didn't expect the flush across her cheeks and the shy, watery shine of those big browns when they refocused on him again. The look made his heart stutter involuntarily, forgetting his suave exterior for just a second before he wrangled it back into place.

"Guest list, wedding party, flowers, colors, venue, food, got it? As soon as you can or we'll have to go through with the court wedding after all." He waited for her nod, giving her one as well and turning on his heel to exit her office as quickly as he could without appearing to run.

That was _not_ at all what he'd planned to accomplish from that impromptu meeting.

Draco had just wanted to confirm that she'd been seen to as far as her gown went and poke a bit of fun at her however he could, knowing she would be upset that he sent her to such an expensive designer. He hadn't expected to come out of there agreeing to a bloody ceremony - hell, **insisting** on it. But then he hadn't expected her to sound so damned depressed about the whole fucking thing either.

The way her eyes lit up every time she thought about a proper wedding, even with whatever was in her head holding her back and reeling her back from it...if all he had to do was shell out some Galleons to take her mind off whatever it was, it would be a pittance to pay. The more Granger acted like a depressed, brooding, moody witch and less like _his_ Granger, the more he just wanted to do whatever was needed to get her back to ground zero where he was most comfortable. He was confident that this would bring her back around. At least that's what he told himself. He pointedly ignored the lingering sense of satisfaction in the back of his mind that seemed content to be stuck on the smile she was doing a bloody awful job of trying to hide just before he left.

Hermione found herself in her office alone again after Draco's departure. She was staring hard at a stack of blank parchment, quill poised in one hand, her research book was closed, lunch all but forgotten, and she just sat there nibbling at the edge of her bottom lip while trying her hardest not to smile about the sudden new development. She kept telling herself that she shouldn't be excited. That there were too many bad things about this situation and about not having her parents there, but she also had a voice in her head telling her that Draco had a point.

Hermione always did what was expected and demanded of her, even this wedding nonsense. Why should she continue to let them have everything? She wanted a wedding – a _real_ wedding – why should she be denied it?

It wouldn't be perfect, it wouldn't be exactly like her dream ceremony, but it would be hers. For all his bad qualities, Draco had offered her a promise in not so many words to deliver on her demands all that was feasible, and for once in her life, she begged her righteous, self-sacrificing side to just accept the damn offer. Even knowing in her head that he had ulterior motives, seeing as he never operated without them, she still found it difficult to object.

If she was being forced to marry, she was going to have as much of her dream fleshed out as possible.

She'd give those stupid reporters something to talk about.

She - Hermione Granger - was getting fucking married on her own terms.

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**A/N:** Hello! It's been a little bit longer than I usually like between uploads, but here's a little something. To the Guest reviewer asking about when the two of them build their relationship, that really doesn't come until _after_ they're married! Hopefully, you'll stick around to see...the story is really just beginning anyway. There will be plenty of Draco/Hermione interaction after they get hitched. Major points on the next chapter should include the ceremony itself and the wedding night. Stay tuned if you're interested and please remember to read and review as you so choose. Thanks all!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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_**Knowing You**_

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Hermione sat cross-legged on her living room floor with her coffee table scooted out of the way so she could sprawl all of her documents out in front of her. Ginny was stretched out on her belly, flipping through some magazines with her legs bent at the knee, kicking her feet casually while her friend scribbled some options into a notebook.

"What do you think about violets, Hermione? Those are nice. Oh, or daffodils! They're in season and would be nice and bright."

Hermione shook her head, "Alstroemeria for the bouquet."

"Alstro-what?"

"Alstroemeria," she looked up to see Ginny's blank look, "Peruvian lilies. I'm still not certain of the colors, but they come in a decent enough variety..."

Ginny cupped her cheek in the palm of one hand, "Okay...well what colors do you want for the theme? You can figure your bouquet and the decorations based on all of that."

Hermione gnawed on her bottom lip, flipping through one of the books the redhead had brought her with fabric color swatches that she'd used in planning her own ceremony. "I don't know...Gin, why did you tell me this was going to be so difficult?"

"What? You mean Hermione Granger of all people didn't know how complex weddings were?" She teased the other witch, stifling her chuckles at the deadly look shot her way. Ginny wriggled around to scootch back upright and closed up the surrounding books. "We've been trying to figure this one out for the last two hours, maybe we should try something else for a bit. What else do we have that you need to make a decision on?"

Hermione shook her head, continuing flipping the pages of color samples and checking them against the swatch of silky dress fabric Endora gave her. "This should be the last of it. I'm pretty sure everything else is covered."

"No way," Ginny said in astonishment. She knew the witch took today and some of yesterday off after lunch, but she never would've figured that even Hermione could make decisions on practically everything needed for a wedding in a day and a half. Sometimes she suspected that she really did still have that time turner hiding somewhere. "Let me see the list."

Ginny reached across the piles of papers and magazines to pluck the parchment out of the brunette's hand. She scanned over the list and sure enough everything aside from the flower arrangements and the overall color scheme were already decided on - normally, she would've thought these things would be the first for a bride to come up with, but then Hermione never really was the most typical of witches. Now she was sure the girl had that time turner still stashed away. Ginny peered over the paper to see Hermione engrossed once again in her task, she wondered if the wrinkle in her forehead would ever come out with how much she'd been furrowing her brow since she arrived to help her.

"Hmm...you missed one other thing on her, Hermione."

Her brown eyes shot up, wide with fear blooming quickly in them. "What? I what? Where? What else is there?"

Ginny snatched up her pen and scribbled an additional line below all the others that were crossed out before handing the paper back.

Hermione read the new line aloud. "...wedding night attire...GIN!"

The redhead chuckled at her friend's face and the brilliant red shade that was swiftly overtaking her usual warm tones. "What? This is also a very important decision."

Hermione had finally confided in Ginny that this would be her first time with a man – a fact that Ginny had already become aware of through her and Draco's _talk_ in his office, though she faked her reaction convincingly enough. After talking through it with her some, Hermione seemed to be slightly less nervous about it and was able to at least speak about it more casually than before. She also responded surprisingly well to her good natured teasing, the casual talk about it seeming to bolster her some.

"Ginny, I am NOT going to make a fool of myself on my wedding night by getting dressed up like some kind of-of-dominatrix!"

Ginny chortled, "Dominatrix? What kind of magazines have YOU been reading in preparation?"

Hermione flushed more brilliantly, "None! I mean I haven't, I mean...can we just leave this one alone?"

"Sure," she shrugged, "But I think this is just as important for you as your big day. You should enjoy it."

"Enjoy it?" Hermione sputtered, "Have you forgotten exactly who I'm being forced to _shack up_ with?"

Ginny grinned at the slang, the other witch's efforts in her discreet research evident in the very non-Hermione-esque terminology. "I haven't! I mean really, you could just imagine you're with someone else to get into the mood, sometimes it's fun to do that anyway."

Hermione blinked at her friend's deviant look and buried her nose further into her color swatches, "I'm not hearing this. I hope you understand that I'm not hearing a word."

"Fine, fine, fine." Ginny crawled over to sit in front of Hermione's couch, bringing her knees up to her chest and leaning her head back against the seat cushions. She eyed the other girl and smirked at her growing blush, the glazed look directed at her book leading her to believe that she wasn't looking at those swatches at all. "You know, at least he's attractive."

That drew a loud snort from the brunette, a reaction that was far too quick and loud. "Who? Malfoy? Not bloody likely."

"I'm just saying that he keeps in shape at least. You know he plays in some community Quidditch games at the stadium? Him and Zabini are there pretty often. I see them fairly regularly when we go out to the pitch to practice."

"What?" Hermione tilted her head, well that would explain a lot. She knew that those lean lines of muscle she felt at her back the other day were no product of an office environment. "I didn't know he still played. I thought he stopped in school during...well you know. Why didn't you ever mention that?"

Ginny shrugged, flexing and curling her toes into Hermione's plush carpet. "I've stopped trying to talk to you about Quidditch a long time ago, I know you don't give a rat's arse about it." She glanced at her sideways, a slow smirk spreading across her lips, "Although I probably SHOULD have mentioned it, considering your other related interest."

Hermione gave her a quizzical look, "Related interest? What related interest?"

"Oh you know...I know you don't really care about the game and all, but I couldn't help but notice your devout interest in the uniforms. Namely how they look on the men."

The brunette sputtered, unable to keep the rose tint from flooding her features once again. "I-I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come ON, Hermione. I don't know who you think you're fooling, but I've seen the way you look at them up there. There's nothing wrong with it. I mean, who doesn't like a man in uniform anyway?"

Hermione frowned in response to her friend's cheeky grin and hid again, trying her best to make some kind of decision on something important. "I have no interest in Quidditch players like that. I don't know what would make you think that I did-"

"I'll give you three reasons: Krum, McLaggen, and Ron," Ginny held up one hand and counted off the three names with her pinky, ring, and middle fingers respectively. With an extra sly grin she added her pointer to the mix, "And now Malfoy."

"Malfoy is NOT my choice!" She screeched then remembered her head, clearing her throat and composing herself. "It's not that I fancy men in uniform I just...I just think that it's...great."

Ginny was barely restraining her laughter, "Great?"

"_Yes. _I mean it's just..._**great**_ when ANY individual keeps themselves in such dutiful shape like that. It's something that deserves respect and...and appreciation. And it's...it's great." Hermione grimaced at how lame it all sounded.

"Uh-huh...and I suppose the rippling abdominals have absolutely nothing to do with it then."

"I've no idea what you're talking about," she mumbled into her color samples.

"Mm..alright."

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_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

_KNOCK KNOCK!_

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

"Hold your damned hippogriffs! For fuck's sake, what the hell do you want?! Granger?" Draco blinked down at the woman holding a thick stack of paper in her arms and balancing a cup in her hand. He looked to the mantle clock then back to her, finally moving aside and motioning her into his office. "What are you doing here this early?"

"I brought the plans...for the wedding." Hermione waited for him awkwardly, not really having expected him to be here at this time of the day. She was known for coming in at the crack of dawn but had no idea anyone else ever ventured in that early as well. Hermione had picked up a cup of coffee at a Muggle shop before heading in with the intention of sipping on it and waiting outside his door. With the look of developing bags under his eyes, she should have brought two.

Draco looked at her again standing in the center of his office, her arms supporting the bundle of parchment. He blinked past the sleep still lingering in his eyes and had an awful sense of deja vu. It was like their house hunting day only their roles were flipped. He'd been sleeping poorly the past few nights and couldn't shake it. So far, he'd been unable to determine the source of the restlessness, so he found himself rolling into work as soon as he was up and conscious enough to Floo in. Usually, by midday he'd reached a reasonable and functioning point of wakefulness, but at the moment his gears were still a bit mussed up.

"Right...yeah, wedding plans." Draco's voice was thick and rough with signs of sleep that had yet to dislodge itself from his throat.

Hermione waited for Draco to shuffle back behind his desk and flop into his chair before she sat herself and observed him.

Draco's sleeves were rolled up, a few errant ink stains visible on his arms from where he'd probably been leaning on some documents while he read through them. The marks near the faded tattoo on his left arm were almost funny at how mundane a picture it made – that particular mark itself having long since lost its impact on her since she'd grown used to his presence there, sometimes she found it disturbing if she thought about it too much so she just tried not to. She knew he still preferred to keep it hidden in her presence though, so the fact that he hadn't bothered to cover it back up led her to believe he wasn't quite all there this morning. Well...that and the fact that his top few shirt buttons were unfastened, his tie loose and low hanging, and his blazer thrown over one of his extra chairs haphazardly. All in all, he was decidedly unkempt...and frankly, he just looked like shit.

"Malfoy? Are you alright? You seem...off."

"Of course I'm alright," his words slurred a bit and his scowl was more for the failure of his motor skills than to her question. "Come on, hand them over, let's see."

Hermione slid the papers across his desk, watching him fumble with them, though to his credit, even his fumble was elegant and he hid it rather smoothly. She tried to fill the silence with idle chatter while he read through everything.

"I tried to make a decision on everything as soon as I could to give you enough time. I know yesterday would've been better, but I figured I'd just give them all to you first thing today instead and maybe it'll be enough time to get everything straight. We only have a few days left now and I hope I didn't cut it too close, but I even had Ginny help some yesterday evening since she's done this kind of thing before-"

"Granger."

She stopped mid-sentence to find Draco pausing his perusal of the documents to blink tiredly over at her.

"It's fine. These all look perfectly doable. The only thing I was even remotely concerned about was the venue and you've picked an easy enough place to procure...considering I own it. Are you sure about the guest list though?"

Hermione puffed up, ready to defend her guests, "I know you don't like each other, but I _was_ hoping you'd be mature enough to not make an issue of him coming-"

Draco snorted but it turned into a yawn, only stifled somewhat by the back of a loosely closed fist. He waved her rehearsed speech away with the same hand, "Not that. I figured you'd be inviting the Weasel...and the rest of the ginger kids. I just mean that it's rather small. The guest list and the wedding party for that matter."

She blew out the argument she'd spent so much time putting together and sighed, nodding a bit sheepishly. "I'm sure. I've never liked huge weddings. Nobody really cares about these things except for the bride anyway."

Draco grew a little more lucid at the grin she flashed with her last comment; that look having been seen so sparingly over the past couple of weeks since her depression had taken hold. He hated to admit it, but he found it refreshing. "You're not wrong," he chuckled and went back to looking over the plans like another one of her proposals, missing the tension around her eyes at his words.

Draco finished scanning through her guest list, noticing that there was no 'Granger' listed anywhere in it – her parents were missing from this list. When he chanced a glance up at her, he caught her staring intently at one of his office tiles and worrying her lip, just doing that glazed far off look thing that she'd gotten into such a bad habit of as of late. The question floated to the top of his mind; he'd asked it once before when they were going over access to their house and she'd given him the most raw, stricken look he'd ever seen in those chocolate orbs. It made him never want to ask again.

Even in his fuzzy headed state, Draco surmised that something about her current relationship with her parents – whatever that may entail – was causing her a great deal of anxiety. He supposed she may tell him eventually...or maybe not at all. If the curiosity continued nagging at him, he would just have to do a little behind the scenes research on it...but for now, he would leave it alone. Between his 2 to 3 hours of sleep a night and the task ahead of him in satisfying his future bride's list requirements, he had enough on his plate without trying to stick his nose into a whole new can of worms.

"Alright, I'll start on all of this at lunch. I've got someone who will be able to make short work of it for us."

That news brought her smile back from wherever it'd been hiding away. Hermione did well to contain her excitement at the fact that she was just a few days away from having the closest she could get to her dream wedding within her less than optimal circumstances. She almost felt bad thinking of it that way considering a huge part of those 'circumstances' was Draco – the one that was really putting this all together for her without a second thought about the inconvenience or the expense. She frowned inwardly at her behavior and stared hard at the lid of her coffee cup. Even if it was Malfoy, that was no excuse to be ungrateful.

An idea flickered to life in her head and she questioned shyly, awkwardly, "Do you...want the rest of my coffee?"

"Pardon?" He really wasn't sure what you would call the look he gave her.

Hermione flushed. "My coffee," she placed it on his desk and scooted it towards him, feeling foolish already but determined to go through with the peace offering. "I've barely touched it, I assure you."

Draco raised a fine blonde eyebrow, the edge of his mouth quirking with it. "Offering me your sloppy seconds, Granger? I'm flattered by the gesture."

His sarcasm was lacking this morning, his bland, tired tone easy proof of that. Hermione cleared her throat, "Come on, Malfoy. Just take the bloody thing. You look like death warmed over. Maybe after a few sips you'll get some of your color back. You'll go from ashen and dull to..._sallow_ and dull."

He chuckled, the noise more of a craggy rumble than anything. "Whatever." Draco reached out to scoop up the coffee, eying it a second before raising it in a small salute, then having a taste. When he pulled away, his lips had a bit of a sheen to it and he looked puzzled. His tongue swept across his bottom lip and looked at her thoughtfully, "You might want to take some coffee with your sugar next time."

Hermione blinked at him in confusion. She took her coffee with a modest two creams, two sugars. What was he talking about with sugar...? When the light caught his lips again, her eyes widened in realization and she couldn't help the snicker at his expense. "Sorry, I think you got some of my gloss on you. Easy fix though." Without even thinking about it, Hermione leaned over his desk, reaching a dainty hand to his lips, swiping her thumb across the flesh to wipe away the thin coating that'd transferred from the cup lid to him.

That single action served just as well as a bucket of frigid water dousing Draco awake, the both of them really.

Draco's eyes widened, stunned by her touch at his lips. Hermione's hand curled around his cheek to anchor her as she dragged her thumb over his mouth, the edge of her nail raking across his upper lip and sending a profound shiver straight through him. The pad of it paused at the center of his lips, he pursed them out of reflex, not a kiss, more of a twitch than anything. His gaze trailed up her arm, over the modestly displayed cleavage from the dip in her blouse, up the long line of her neck, and back up to her eyes which were huge as she realized exactly what she was doing. That familiar flush of pink surfaced at her chest first and crept into her cheeks, but she didn't move, frozen in apparent embarrassment.

Moving slowly so as not to startle, Draco slid one of his hands over her arm, his fingers dancing over the skin exposed by her short sleeves. As his touch trailed up the length of her forearm, he thought on how impossibly smooth her skin was, soft and silky even to the barest of his touches. His hand paused at her wrist, gently tugging it away from his face, not paying any mind to how his own thumb wanted to brush across the backs of her knuckles of its own accord. Gray eyes locked with brown and neither seemed able to divert their attention for the longest of moments.

"Thank you," Draco mumbled. As an afterthought, he picked the cup up again and motioned it towards her, "For the coffee."

Hermione swallowed and nodded, straightening slowly until he had no choice but to release her arm. "You're welcome.." She bit at her lip, her nerves flaring to life in the too-quiet room and that flushing heat flooding through her veins again when she saw Draco's steely gaze snap to the movement. She stammered, walking herself backwards out of his office. "I'll just..I'll leave you to get your other work done."

Draco blinked back up at the rest of her face when she spoke again, mentally shaking himself out of his daze. "Yeah."

Hermione let herself out, nearly slamming his door in her haste to remove herself from his presence. The pattering flutter of her heart in her chest had her blood thrumming. Never before had she gotten so close to him like that of her own volition, she had no idea what had gotten into her just then. She was getting far too comfortable in his company for her liking. Grimacing, she made to mentally saddle the blame on one meddling redhead for planting ideas in her head.

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The clock began it's gentle chime of 12 bells.

Draco just barely finished wading through the rest of the day's proposals by the time the twelfth bell struck. His extra hours in the morning – and his intense focus and determination to lose himself in his work following Granger's unexpected visit – worked very well in getting through his work so he could concentrate on other things. Namely, getting this list of wedding to-do's done. He'd originally just had the Friday of their planned court wedding off, but after receiving the stack of plans from his fiancee that morning, he sent a memo to his department head to arrange for the rest of this week and next for the formal ceremony and the honeymoon he'd taken to plotting.

If he were anyone else, the hopes of getting all the arrangements taken care of in two and a half days at this point would be futile. Luckily for him, he wasn't anyone else. He was Draco Malfoy, and there still were some perks to carrying such a tainted name.

Scooping a handful of powder from the ceramic bowl over his office fireplace, he tossed it into the flames, watching them flare to life before calling his destination. "Malfoy Manor." Draco was barely through the flames, the whoosh of his arrival still fading from his ears when the hurried clicking of heels echoed in the room.

"Draco? Draco is that you?" The familiar lilt of a female voice sounded out with hopeful excitement.

"Good afternoon, mother." The blonde headed woman scurried over to him, enveloping him in a tight hug for many long seconds. When she finally pulled away to grin up at him, blue eyes glittering, he gave her one of his rarer smiles and a kiss on the cheek.

One said perk of being Draco Malfoy, tasked with the mission of producing invitations and procuring flowers, refreshments, and decorations for a ceremony in two and a half days would be having access to one of the most practiced socialites in current wizarding society, Narcissa Malfoy.

"My boy! What brings you home today? Not that I'm not happy to see you but-"

"But you never come to the Manor anymore unless you need something."

Draco's smile withered at the slithering sound of an equally familiar voice. "Greetings father. You seem well."

For every perk, there was a flaw. In this case, the flaw to counterbalance Narcissa was Lucius Malfoy.

"Of course. No thanks to you."

Draco's jaw twitched and he felt his mother turn in his loose embrace, vaguely noticing her hiss at her husband to hold his tongue.

"It's _nice_ to see you, whatever the reason. Isn't that right, Lucius?"

The older Malfoy sneered at his son and said again, "Of course."

Draco placed a guiding hand at his mother's back, making to lead her into one of the smaller dining rooms for lunch. "I'm sorry mother, I'll make an effort to come by more often." He leaned close to his mother's ear to whisper, "Owl me whenever he's not around." The comment earned him a light smack to the arm but she smirked anyway. "I'm afraid I do need your help with something though."

Narcissa frowned, taking a seat at the table that already had a modest spread of food laid out on its surface with two place settings. She called one of their house elves to set Draco a place as well and soon enough the three of them were ready for lunch. "What's the matter, Draco? You know we'll help you however we can."

Lucius scoffed but said nothing else.

The witch shot him a glare then gasped suddenly, mostly to herself at a concerning thought, "Is it about that dreadful law The Minister passed? I know you owled us to let us know the agreement with the Greengrass' had been nullified because of it-"

"A pity that. They were one of our better chances to get into the good graces of 'the community'," Lucius commented, starting in on some soup that had been cooling next to his plate.

Draco ignored him and nodded to his mother. He'd very eagerly owled them that day to let them know the engagement to Tori was off...he just happened to neglect mentioning who he would be hitched to in lieu of the youngest Greengrass sister. In his defense, when he started writing the letter, he hadn't yet known _who_ his new witch would be. He just didn't feel the need to correct it and re-write it before he sent it after his meeting with Hermione and their caseworker.

"It _is_...actually," Draco started awkwardly, producing a tiny stack of papers and waving his wand atop them to restore them to their original state. He slid the stack towards his mother and folded his hands back on the table giving her his most charming smile. "I need your help with the wedding. We have until Friday."

Narcissa's eyes enlarged at the deadline, "Draco! A whole wedding in little more than two days? Son, I'm not sure if even I can make this happen. Is that the latest that we have?" She pulled the tie securing the papers and began looking through them.

"It is. We have already gotten a one week extension as it is." Draco reached across the table to rest his hand over hers, offering his sweetest, saddest look that only ever worked on Narcissa, "It's important, mother. Can you see what you can do?"

Narcissa knew what her son was doing, but even after all these years, she still found it difficult to resist her little boy. She felt her heart knock against her ribcage and she set her jaw against the turning in her gut at the idea of not coming through for him. She nodded, "Yes, Draco...I'll get with some of my coordinators and see what we can do."

Draco blew out a heavy breath, overacting his relief at her words and grinned at her again. "Thank you mother. You truly are a lifesaver."

"Who is the bride?"

His look of satisfaction dampened at his father's question and Draco cast him a short look and a muttered answer.

"Draco, don't mumble. Who is your bride?" Lucius snapped at his son, wishing he had his cane nearby to jab at him.

"Hermione Granger."

"_**Hermione Granger?**_" Narcissa exclaimed, the shock plain on her face.

Draco's confident poise faltered. Part of him had actually been hoping for a court wedding so he wouldn't necessarily _have_ to invite his parents, but in light of the new plans, he supposed it was only a matter of time before they found out. He knew that it would come up if he were to ask for his mother's help in the first place, but he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't hope that they wouldn't have the sense to ask.

"Hermione Granger?" The drawl from Lucius was smooth and slow, much like the way his eyebrow crept up his forehead. "Is that a _joke_?"

Draco frowned. The degree of calm from his father after his announcement made him leery, it was like a rattler's tail sounding off in warning. "I'm afraid it's not, father. Granger and I have been deemed the most compatible together of our options," the blonde scowled, remembering their initial meeting and all the papers Shacklebolt waved at them. The numbers truly were impressive, but he still thought the entire thing to be a load of manure.

Lucius snorted, "Compatible? They must not have been paying attention to what they were doing when they determined that arrangement." His tone was venomous now, a sneer on his lips at the thought, "MY son, marrying a mudblood-"

"_Lucius!_ You know they prosecute people for the use of that word now!"

He huffed petulantly at his wife, "Tch, it's a sad time indeed if I cannot speak freely in my own home." Lucius' steely eyes looked to his son, "I will just take refuge in the fact that at least you're not in love with her."

The last wasn't phrased as a question, but his father was looking at him like he expected some kind of response. "No, I'm not," Draco agreed. He was internally taken aback by how distasteful saying the words aloud were. He ignored how it unnerved him. It wasn't a lie, he most certainly was not in love with Hermione Granger. He wouldn't even go so far as to call her a friend. She was going to be his wife in the most plain and sterile sense of the word.

Lucius relaxed some, the tension in his shoulders easing away as he leaned back in his seat at the table. He nodded, seeming satisfied at Draco's comment. "We will just have to find another way to make due with this union. Fortunately, there is at least opportunity here."

The younger wizard's expression shifted from his grimace to one of caution. "What are you referring to?"

"This," his father waved at the stack of papers still sitting before Narcissa and back to Draco, "Idiocy. The entire point of the Greengrass marriage was to work our way back in to...more favorable light with our circles and the general masses since they weren't as...frequently spoken about in the last war. They assured me that even with little Astoria taking the Malfoy name that there was enough pull with the family to lift us back up to our rightful status. At least the mu-" At the hard look from his wife, he sneered, "_Miss Granger_ will also offer an avenue for such a task."

The comment sent the gears a-whirring in Draco's head. "You mean to use my marriage to her to restore the Malfoy name because of her own status within Potter's circle."

"Precisely, my boy! I knew you weren't lost to me yet. For once the silly girl's charities and activism may be useful. You two will wed and be in the papers constantly. It will only be a matter of time before all those upturned noses look to us again in fondness."

Draco's frown returned at hearing how proud his father was of the scheme – of _him_ being a part of it. A handful of years ago, he would be beaming and eating it all up from the man he once admired and followed without question. Now...well now the plot to use her as some kind of political bargaining chip left a bitter taste in his mouth. It sounded absolutely crazy, though he supposed Lucius never really came back 100% from Azkaban the second time.

"Lucius dear, have you forgotten the other part of the law?" Narcissa questioned her husband carefully. She never quite knew when he was going to slip into his more unstable of mindsets and some things were easier triggers than others. "The children.."

The wizard waved this off, a not-quite-right flicker in his eye, "We will find Draco a proper mistress. Normally I would frown on such things, but it's bad enough to have the Muggle-born in the family. We can at least have him father a child with a Pureblooded witch and parade it off as theirs."

"I hardly think that Granger would agree to something like that," Draco chimed in bitterly. He found himself feeling remarkably ill that he'd even thought of such a similar plan for his betrothed. His version was decidedly less dastardly – surprisingly enough – but it still struck a chord within him.

"Then pay her off," Lucius shrugged, "We'll draw up a settlement and have her sign."

"Hermione's not interested in _money_, father." The compulsion to defend the witch's honor bubbled to the surface, though he acted on it more to piss off the older Malfoy than anything else. Lucius was speaking dangerously, all for a matter of status. It was all the same bullshit that nearly got them all killed when Voldemort had risen again. His father was obsessed with a name and rank and seemed to care very little about the casualties along the way, even if they ended up being his own family.

Lucius' humor faded, a glare taking its spot with his sights zeroed in on his son, "Then we will find what she _is_ interested in and bargain with that. Everyone has a price, Draco."

Draco scoffed, "You've obviously forgotten what kinds of people fill the shoes of a Gryffindor, _Lucius_."

"Why you insolent-"

"_**Gentlemen!**_" Narcissa rose from her seat, a hand outstretched to both husband and son, begging for pause. "How about we worry about these details at a later date? The wedding still has to happen first. Why don't we all just enjoy the rest of our lunch together-" She looked sternly to both, urging them to calm their arguments, "-Lucius? Draco?"

Draco sneered at his father and moved to his mother's side, "I'm sorry mother, my break is almost over. I need to be getting back to the office." He leaned down to place another soft kiss to her temple, "Please excuse me."

Narcissa sighed heavily, leaning into the quick peck and nodded. "Certainly dear. I will work on these after lunch. I will owl you later this evening with news."

The younger blonde rubbed a few light circles between the woman's shoulder blades fondly. "Thank you." Draco eyed his father, lip curling ever so slightly, "Good day, father." He didn't wait for a response from the older man before making his exit, taking the Floo back to his office to finish out the day and work on his other planning.

How he loathed coming home.

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The next days passed quickly. Hermione and Draco avoided each other as much as possible after the awkward encounter in his office the other morning.

Hermione worked diligently to pack her belongings up from her flat to move into their new home. Her chosen venue was the large backyard at their new house. She knew it would be available and thought it a decent enough idea to break in the home with a party of sorts. For the longest time, until her breakup with Ron, Hermione just knew she was going to get married at the Burrow like Bill and Fleur. While that didn't work out, the idea of a ceremony at home was still appealing and it fell in line with the relaxed atmosphere she'd always wanted.

The new furniture and miscellany Draco had insisted on had all been delivered the other day and set in their appropriate rooms, so for all intents and purposes the place was set and ready for entertaining. Hermione still had a couple of months left on her lease for her apartment so she was in no hurry to move the other bulky items and just concentrated on moving the necessities and a few other odds and ends. Draco appeared to have done the same, for as she was standing in their new room, she noted that the wardrobe and closet was already partially filled – she found it irksome to realize he didn't wait for her to voice a preference on the division of space.

Like Draco, Hermione took the rest of the week off to prepare for the ceremony that afternoon. Endora delivered on her and Ginny's dresses the night before and they were absolutely brilliant. She was worried about having to go through additional fittings but the woman truly was a prodigy in her work and it fit like a glove the very first time. Seeing it on her nearly brought Ginny to tears. Hermione's own reaction was more of what she thought of as an inappropriate amount of eagerness considering who she was to be married to, but it was so much more than she ever could have expected that she just couldn't help herself.

Hermione floated around in their bedroom's huge walk-in closet, having arrived with a few more of her things in addition to wrangling the huge dress bag. Ginny was to be arriving soon as well to start work on her hair and makeup and in what would likely be the quickest 8 hours ever to pass, she would become the new Mrs. Malfoy. _**That's **_certainly a thought that she never expected to be privy to since being introduced into this whole new magical world.

With no small amount of struggling, Hermione hooked the dress onto one of the bare spots of the closet near the back. She still had a bit of time before she needed to prepare for Ginny, she rationalized, so she unzipped the heavy white garment bag to have another peek at her gown. She couldn't help the grin that split her features, her hand coming up to stroke over the ultrasmooth white silk and beading. The shape of it was simple enough and flattering, but the extra touches that Endora insisted on adding were so gorgeous, it should have been worth ten times what was paid for it.

Hermione's cheeks ached from smiling and it took her a great deal of time to pull herself away from admiring it but she eventually talked herself into storing it away again until later. When she made to zip up the bag, the bottom edge of it knocked something she hadn't noticed in the corner of the closet before. Hermione frowned and stopped to see what it was Draco had thrown there so carelessly and came back with a set of well worn leather pads. Her brow dipped in her examination, twisting one of them around briefly until she remembered what Ginny had said about him still playing in the community league games. How she never knew anything about such a league, she didn't really know, what with all of her friends being so enamored with the game. Although, they did _all_ know that she really gave less than two shits about the sport so she wondered maybe if they collectively just decided to stop talking to her about it as Ginny did; she couldn't say that she wasn't grateful for that.

Curiosity got the better of her – as it usually did – and she pondered over if the community leagues had some kind of uniform or not. She imagined they would have to if they were to recognize who was who. Forgetting about the pads and her dress for the moment, Hermione poked around the closet through the items Draco already brought over. To her surprise, she didn't find a new team jersey, but she _did_ come upon a very familiar green uniform with a worn looking "MALFOY" emblazoned on the back. Considering the color and the unmistakable sight of the old Slytherin Quidditch uniform, she wasn't sure how she missed it before – must've been bride brain.

Her hand reached out to touch the thick green jumper, fingers stroking over the knit and taking in how soft it actually was for something that looked so bulky. She recalled very well how Draco looked in his last year in this very uniform, and though he'd definitely grown since then, she imagined it still may fit, if not just be a bit snug. An image of how his broadened shoulders and chest would fill out the woolen sweater flitted through her head and a wave of heat washed over her, pooling low in her abdomen. Hermione cursed Ginny again for planting that seed.

"Admiring the goods, Granger?"

Hermione screamed, nearly leaping clear out of her skin as she whirled to face the blonde prat who just scared her within an inch of her life. Holding a hand over her heart, which was threatening to beat its way out of her ribcage, she saw Draco grinning at her. He was leaned up against the closet's door frame with arms folded and clad in one of his more casual shirts and slacks.

"Merlin's sake, Malfoy! Don't DO that!"

Draco chuckled, stepping further into the space, "I saw your bag on the counter and called out for you, but you didn't answer." He nodded at his old uniform and grinned, "I knew you were checking me out all those years ago."

"Wha? I was not!" Hermione blushed, she knew her face was quickly climbing the color chart to the reddest red her complexion was capable of. "I was hanging up my dress and waiting for Ginny so I could start getting ready for this afternoon." The sentence was barely out of her mouth when she realized what was hung up right behind her and still in the unzipped bag. "My dress! Malfoy! Out! You can't see it! Out, now!"

The humor in him changed to confusion as the petite witch started waving her hands about frantically, eyes huge and panicked. He looked at her, puzzled, "Why not? What's wrong with it?" Draco's mouth turned downwards deeply, the thought that it wasn't tailored properly crossing his mind. "Does it not fit? What's wrong? Let me see. Endora has never let me down before-"

As soon as he started trying to push past her, Hermione became even more frantic, a hand coming up to press at his cheek to try and keep him from seeing the gown. "No! Stop-"

"Granger, I'm just-"

"NO! You can't-"

"Why are you being so dodgy?"

"I don't want you to see-"

"-if there's something wrong-"

"Malfoy, stop pushing!"

"YOU stop pushnff mmhfasche- STOP IT!"

Draco pried Hermione's hands away from his cheeks so he could peer over her head and get a glimpse of the dress. He barely got a look at the hanger it was on before her body slammed into him and pressed him up against one of the sets of wire shelving nearby. She pressed flush up against him and in the stumble, her hands were freed and latched back onto the sides of his head, her palms coming out like blinders on a horse. Draco looked down at her as though she'd just gone mad, hands steadying her at her shoulders while she was so close.

"Have you lost your bloody marbles, woman?!"

Hermione shook her head, wide eyes pleading, "It's tradition!"

Draco blinked, "It's tradition for Muggle-born women to manhandle their future husband in a closet? If I'd known you were so kinky, love, I would've sprung for some different furniture."

"NO!" Hermione stepped away just enough to smack him hard on his chest. "You can't see the dress before the wedding, you idiot! It's bad luck!"

The wizard just stared down at her, taking in her only slightly less panicked face and watching the rise and fall of her chest lessen and even out some. Her eyes were still serious though, _she_ was still serious. In fact, he couldn't recall many other times he'd seen her quite this serious. That thought brought his signature smirk creeping back to his face slyly.

"Well, well..._tradition_ you say? Mm..maybe I'm thinking of another bird, but I seem to recall someone that looked a bit like you being a bit put off by 'tradition'. Do you remember who that was, Granger? I'm thinking of a face...I just can't remember..."

Hermione grumbled, eyes shifting away as she wished the red in her cheeks would fade. "Sod off."

He snorted, running his hands lightly over her shoulders until she looked up at him again, "I won't look, Granger, promise." Draco waited for her nod of acceptance before he dropped his arms back to his sides, examining her again. "You know, I'm no expert on tradition-" She bit at her lip when he said that and he barely contained his cheeky grin, "-but I was pretty sure it was that I couldn't see _you_ in the dress before the ceremony. And though the view isn't unpleasant as is, I don't see a dress."

_'...was that a compliment?'_ Hermione's gaze flicked back to his face to find him smiling at her, one of those rare ones he only shared on a particularly good day. She wondered if he even realized he was doing it. The strength of his gaze, staring right down into her own was startling and suddenly much too intense. "What are you doing here so early?" She blurted, changing the subject abruptly.

The question didn't deter his otherwise decent mood, "Came to get my dress robes. I brought them over the day you brought me the plans and I saw the venue you picked." An evil glint twinkled in his eye, "In fact I think they may be right over there, next to your dress-"

"Draco you promised!" Hermione screeched, latching onto the arm that pivoted towards her gown with the rest of his body.

The blonde laughed loudly, the image of a pouting Hermione Granger too much and he wasn't able to contain himself. The fact that she could jut out her lip _and_ chew at it between her teeth at the same time was actually very impressive. Thinking about how such an act would look in practice would've brought to mind a rather doofy looking expression, but however she was managing it turned out to be somehow...adorable. His hand traveled of its own accord and he poked at her lip until she stopped worrying at it and settled on just pouting instead.

"I was just trying to point out where they were," he teased.

Hermione huffed, not noticing the way he was looking her over, being far too exasperated by his behavior and being alert enough to jump in his line of sight at a moment's notice. "I'll locate your bloody robes! Now get out of this closet and stop trying to peek!"

"I'm not trying to peek."

"You are! There, you just did it again! Out! Get out!"

Draco left the space of the closet still chuckling, standing dutifully outside the doorway as though he were guarding the room. He had his back turned to the direction he'd come and easily heard the witch bustling about. He heard her grousing about something and then a pronounced zipping sound, which he assumed belonged to the white garment bag he'd caught a glimpse of. She rattled some hangers, mumbling to herself all the while and soon enough he felt a tapping at his shoulder.

Hermione shoved an armful of clothing at him. "Here. Now take them and go away."

He smirked at the command and in response took his time looking over the items to make sure everything was there. Draco had no idea how many formal events Hermione had attended in her time being part of wizarding society, but between her experience and all the research in that noggin of hers, he supposed he shouldn't have been so impressed about the completeness of the outfit. It all seemed to be in order: dress slacks, dress shirt, robes, vest, even the bow tie.

Draco draped the clothes over one arm and held up the tie with a lifted brow, "Last I recall, this was black."

Hermione folded her arms, wand clearly visible in her current stance. "This is better."

"I rather think I like my original tie better, Granger."

Her eyes shifted away and she mumbled something quietly.

"Sorry, how's that?"

She sighed heavily. "This will match my dress."

The blonde looked to the pale golden tie in his hand curiously, "It's gold?"

"No," she chewed at her lip, holding back her grin as she thought about it again, "It will match the accents."

Draco's mouth tugged itself back into a smirk, the sight of his witch – normally so calm and composed – near to buzzing out of her skin with anticipation. Seeing her like this after three weeks of experiencing the miserable shell of the woman he'd grown up with stuttering through her daily tasks made a significant part of him feel the need to be much more agreeable than usual.

"Fair enough." He placed the tie back over the other pieces laid across his arm and reached just past her to pull a pair of shiny and impossibly expensive looking dragonhide shoes from the shelving she had him pressed against earlier. "I will make myself scarce until this afternoon so you and Red can concentrate on taming that bird's nest atop your head. Wouldn't want my owl to come roost in the midst of our vows."

The witch rolled her eyes, pushing him further through their bedroom back to the entryway with the intent of kicking him out. "You do that. And I can assure you, my hair won't be any kind of problem, although we may have to powder your skin to a more palatable shade. We can't leave your gentile snow white complexion to catch the light badly and blind our guests."

Draco chuckled, "I'll see you soon, Granger."

"Unfortunately."

The single word was laced with sarcasm but Draco could hear her grin through it.

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Narcissa was brilliant.

Ginny hated to admit it, but the fact of the matter was, it was true. It took her months to arrange her own wedding with Harry between making decisions and getting all the different shops and things on the same page, how the Malfoy matriarch did all this in two days she would never be able to guess. Granted, all the decisions were made quickly by the bride-to-be and that played a huge part in it, but actually putting it all together was a talent.

"Hermione, did you see the butterflies?" Ginny asked, peering through the blinds from the master bedroom where it overlooked the fenced back yard.

"Butterflies? She ordered _butterflies?_" Hermione shuffled over to her friend, nudging her to make room so she could see as well. She tugged at the woman's shoulder and pointed at the huge enchanted cages on either side of the white lattice arch that were filled with brilliantly colored butterflies fluttering about. Even at a distance, she could see that the color choices were deliberate and they matched the scheme of her bouquet with the reds, oranges, and yellows. "GIN! There are butterflies!"

Ginny laughed at the childlike glee on the other witch's face. "I take it 'butterflies' weren't on your list of needs for the decorations?"

Hermione's head shook back and forth in response but she was still looking through the blinds. She'd been taking breaks from their joint task of working her curls into a sleeker, more manageable mess to watch the simple venue come alive with Narcissa's efforts.

A wood paneled floor was magicked into existence near the back patio area, along with her little Muggle stereo system to be used with the makeshift dance floor. Hermione spent some time setting it up in the most basic way possible before Ginny arrived; she hoped that Harry would volunteer to help operate it, since the majority of the guests would probably have no clue how to do so even if they wanted to. Tables with white cloth coverings, gold runners, and red and orange flower shaped mats were set up early on in the day as well. These would later get the trays, trivets, and stands of food set out on them for the modest reception following the vows.

The attending guest count was small, though that was unsurprising for how little notice they were able to provide. The few chairs needed for them were set up in rows, spanning from one side of the yard to the other, and the sides were divided by the white runner that stretched from the edge of the dance floor to the simple podium beneath the archway. Clusters of lilies and wildflowers decorated the fence, the swags on the tables, the ends of the rows of chairs, and even hung around the torch bases of the citronella candles she'd insisted on getting. Hermione glanced around the yard, smirking when she saw the bench swing tucked under the single large tree within the fenced area of the property, also covered in flowers and delicate looking vines with a banner draped across the canopy that had both her and Draco's names in an elegant script printed on it.

Narcissa was brilliant.

Hermione couldn't imagine the older witch had any degree of fondness for her, though in truth their exchanges had been seldom and brief. If she were to think about it, she had no idea what Narcissa thought of her. Fortunately for her, she really didn't _care_ about the woman's opinion of her marrying her son, but she wouldn't deny that she was a little curious just to know. Hermione doubted that any of these things accomplished were because of any favor to her personally, as much as they were probably just another way for the woman to indulge in her hobby and illustrate her coordinating and decorating prowess. Whatever the reason, though, it was all absolutely gorgeous and she owed her a world of thanks for bringing it all to life. Thinking about it too long made her wish again that her parents could see. Before she could fall too far into that hole of thoughts, though, she felt a warm hand at her back and looked over to see Ginny.

"Hey," the redhead smiled softly, "Let's finish up with your hair, okay? Then we can do the easy part."

Hermione huffed playfully at Ginny's grin, "You sound like Malfoy. Trying to say it's a mess?"

Ginny chuckled and led her back to the chair she had set up at the edge of the bed in the midst of her 'hair taming' station – she'd said earlier that even though the bathroom suite was huge, she still needed more space to be able to get the right hair tugging angles to get Hermione's mane to cooperate. The brunette wasn't really amused at the time, but she seemed more lenient with the joking commentary now after she reassured her that it _**was**_ just a joke.

"It's not a mess! It just wants to do what it wants to do...like its owner. C'mon now, in the chair! You wanted these a bit looser, right? We've still got a ways to go if so!"

Hermione allowed herself to be nudged back into the torture chair by her friend, all the while looking longingly at the window to try and get a better look at everything. Ginny went back to massaging in an array of hair potions and tonics into her scalp and locks, occasionally tugging on a knot or two with a wide toothed comb.

"Gin-"

"Yeah?"

"Can we move the chair closer to the window?"

"No."

"But you don't really need to be in the middle of the room for this-"

"Good Godric, woman, will you focus?"

"Sorry."

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Draco's hand snuck out smoothly from his side, intent on a decidedly tasty looking watercress sandwich atop a whole platter of them on the kitchen island. He was sure nobody would notice just one gone, maybe two, they were small after all. His fingers were nearly there to the soft looking crustless bread when another hand, just as pale as his own, snapped out to rap him on the knuckles.

"Draco! Those aren't for you!"

Where his mother came from, he had no clue. The blonde snatched back his hand and massaged away the harsh sting of his mother's slap. "Afternoon, mother. I thought you were still outside, directing the decorating party."

"As was evident by you trying to steal the sandwiches for the guests."

Draco sighed and sat himself on the stool at the island. He was dressed and ready, sans robe which was draped carefully over one of the dining room's chairs. "Why are we serving them before the ceremony? I was under the impression they were always served after," he grumbled, more due to being stifled by his mother than anything else.

Narcissa shrugged, "They'll be arriving any moment now with nothing to do until that all begins. We have to keep them entertained somehow and food is the most universal way."

"Who bloody cares if they're entertained?" The wizard muttered under his breath, trying not to stare at the sandwiches that were still nearby.

"Draco!"

He shot upright at his mother's stern address again.

Narcissa reappeared in front of him, sliding something towards him on the countertop. "You need to give this to Miss Granger."

Draco blinked down at the object revealed as his mother's hand moved away. It was an elegant looking silver pendant of the family crest that hung from a thin, satiny black ribbon. He recognized it as one of his mother's jewelry pieces she would wear on occasion to this gala or that ball. Draco plucked it from its spot, turning it about in his hand before looking to Narcissa again.

"You're giving this to Granger? I thought you liked this piece."

The witch scoffed, "Giving? Heavens no! It's for her to borrow for the wedding."

_'Oh.'_ The likelihood that his fiancee would wear Malfoy jewels, was slim to none. She'd already refused to wear the family ring per their contract, he was doubtful that she would even consider this piece. Draco pursed his lips thoughtfully, searching for an easy out. "She's not really one for tradition, mother. I don't know that she'll be interested."

Narcissa looked affronted, "But Draco, this is one of the most important ones! She can't go down the aisle without it." The witch counted off on her fingers of one hand, "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, a sixpence in her shoe!"

If he ever wondered where he got his penchant for traditions, he would need to look no further than the elegantly poised woman staring at him with eyes wide like he'd just spat a dozen curse words in her face. Draco looked down to the pendant again and then back to his mother who was so visibly dismayed at the thought that his bride wouldn't be adhering to this tradition that all he could do was just breathe out a heavy sigh.

"I'll give it to her if you won't Draco!"

"No!" He surprised himself at his volume and repeated himself more softly, "No, somehow I don't believe that you showing up at the bedroom door will do much for her nerves. No offense."

Narcissa's brow drew upwards skeptically, "I don't know much about Miss Granger, dear...as you've been so secretive about her until two days ago...just what I've seen in the papers. She doesn't seem the type to get nervous."

"Maybe not.."

Draco rolled the necklace around in his hand, not looking up to see the witch's expression. _He_ wasn't the type to get nervous, but the closer the hour of truth got, the more he found himself unsettled. He'd always known he would be suffering through an arranged marriage, though this situation in particular had never crossed his mind. If the woman who would be walking to meet him at the end of the aisle were anyone aside from Hermione Granger, he wasn't so sure if his empty stomach would be flipping as much as it was in that moment.

He had plenty of time to think over it so far today, over all the possibilities of what was rattling him so much now, and the only answer he could find was the uncertainty that hung in the air around them. Draco had done his best to make things as predictable as possible, in that way his contract served two purposes: it freed them specifically of having a child together and it set very clean expectations in each other's behavior after their union. All that aside, however, there was still a great deal of unpredictability that lingered and Draco never liked that.

Fact of the matter was, their marriage shouldn't happen. It was against everything he was raised to know and believe, not just because of their blood, but because of _her_. Herimione Granger was not and would never be confused for a properly raised Pureblood witch. She was opinionated, naggy, snarky, and always had some snippet of knowledge on any given topic that she was ready to blurt out at a second's notice. She was not the silent, stoic, passive kind of witch who would hold her tongue on any matter – large or small. Granger most assuredly had a mind of her own and made no apologies when she would express controversial ideas. She was not at all the kind of woman he'd ever imagined himself with even though if he were honest with himself, he found it stimulating - intellectually of course.

Draco had grown up alongside the woman and, for all intents and purposes, he knew how to handle her and her moods. At least he thought he had. He'd known the woman and known her quirks and functions and all of her emotions – all of them except for the utterly dismal depression she'd been lost in for the last three weeks. His world was upended when the deep sorrow in her eyes hit him like a brick wall. He pestered her as much as he could afford to, to bring her back to the Granger that he understood how to deal with. Each time he brought her back from her personal well of sadness, he felt a sense of accomplishment. It wasn't until the other morning with her thumb pressed to his lips and her hand curled around his cheek that he'd noticed how she was affecting _his_ moods too.

The fact that he couldn't see those brown eyes, livid with her irritation, and not count the gold flecks in them now as a regular part of his routine.

The fact that he curbed his sarcastic teasing in conversation from its usual course to instead extract those smirks of hers that were little else than a tilt and purse of mouth, finding he preferred this to the sneers or snarls typically directed his way.

The way he couldn't get the taste of her lip gloss out of his head and the traitorous thoughts that wondered if she had other flavors she fancied or if sugary vanilla cream was what she always tasted like.

All these things were **_NOT _**normal.

They were not typical Malfoy-Granger interactions.

All these things, along with the way her small form was pressed to him in their closet that morning and how he was not at all repulsed by her closeness, brought light to just how much uncertainty lay in what they were about to do.

Even though he knew she was a woman, _**he**_ had never thought of her as such. Hermione Granger was simply just..._Granger._ With the impending ceremony and his task for this evening to _'seal the deal'_ though, he knew he needed to start thinking of her as such; his concern was that at some point, he already _had_.

The sound of the Floo drew Draco out of his thoughts, his mother apparently had excused herself at some point in the midst of his thinking. He was worried for a second that it would be a set of Granger's friends, as they'd opened the Floo today to anyone with the appropriate invitations. When three familiar faces stepped through the fireplace, his concern fled and a new thought bubbled to the surface. Draco took one last glance at the pendant and closed his hand around it, pushing from the stool to greet the first round of guests.

Three figures stood waiting. One was a light skinned, dark haired wizard in a stunning set of black and white robes, perfectly fitted to his moderate height and slim build. The second, a tall, dark skinned man with equally expensive robes only his had a small flower pinned to his lapel. The third was a woman that had skin pale enough to rival Draco's own. She was looking about the room curiously, clad in a brightly colored yellow and orange sundress with flowers of all sorts printed on her skirt.

"Well, looking quite dapper there, good sir. Good hunting, mate. Word on the street is you finally bagged yourself a lion!"

Draco grinned, "Theo, good to see you." He tugged the wizard in for a half hug and clapped him on the back, turning to the other two. He did well to not let his expression show how odd he still thought the match before him, "Loon—er..Lovegood, Blaise, good of you to come."

Luna waved airily at Draco, her other arm tucked around one of Blaise's. "It's Zabini, technically. Thank you for the invitation. It's always nice to see what my friends are up to. I don't get out much, you know."

Theo grinned at the woman, Draco blinked at her wispy expression and dreamy smile, they both then glanced to Blaise who just shrugged.

There was a brief moment of guilt that crept into Draco's being at the fact that he apparently missed his friends' weddings – both Theo's and Blaise's. Though he didn't recall getting an invitation for either. Everything with his own assigned partner was happening so quickly, he really didn't even have time to consider that his friends, what few of them he still kept, would have been going through similar things also. The only reason they were likely to have anyone that could actually attend their wedding was the fact that they'd had an extra week on a technicality to get it all taken care of.

Thankfully, with Draco being Draco, that particular round of guilt was fleeting.

"Ah...right...well," Draco raised an eyebrow at the witch but shook his head, "I'm sure Granger will be pleased that you've made it."

"Speaking of, where is the old ball and chain?" Blaise followed Draco and guided his own witch further into the room towards the large kitchen.

"Getting ready with the She-Potter." He looked at Luna who was smiling faintly but looking about the room, taking in the new scenery. "In fact, Luna," the witch's actual name tasted funny on his tongue. "I've got something for her. The last time I went up there, I got screeched at for coming near the work in progress. Can you take this to her? My mother requested she wear it for the ceremony. The bedroom is at the end of the hall."

Draco presented the Malfoy pendant to the witch, her blue eyes finally coming back around to rest and focus on the jewelry. Luna reached out, delicately cupping the piece in her hand to examine it before she nodded and he let the necklace drop into her palm.

"What's that for?" Theo asked, peeking over Draco's shoulder, a half eaten sandwich lodged in one of his cheeks like some kind of rodent.

Draco glared at his friend who was stuffing his face with the snacks he had his eyes set on all morning and snatched the rest of his sandwich away. "Something borrowed," he said pointedly and bit into the remainder of Theo's snack.

Blaise rolled his eyes, "You Malfoy's are something else with that rubbish."

The statement earned him a glare as well from the blonde but he was impervious to its effects after all these years. The Italian turned to his wife instead and pulled something from his inner pocket, handing it to her to deliver with the Malfoy necklace. She smiled sweetly at him, nodded, and leaned up on her toes to pull Blaise into a kiss.

Theo continued chewing his newly acquired sandwich while Draco nearly choked on his pilfered half of the old. He watched the couple embrace warmly, his friend's arms wrapping around the woman's waist, hands resting mid back to support her on her toes. Her arms looped around Blaise's neck, jaw working subtly as they shared a kiss that wasn't quite lewd but was a little more than cordial in the presence of others. It was over quickly enough and he saw Blaise grin down at her, give her a peck on her nose, and send her on her way.

After the woman disappeared from sight, Blaise turned back to see Draco staring at him, jaw hanging open slightly. "What?" He snapped tartly. "Has it been so long since you've seen a good snog, Drake?"

Draco blinked once. Twice. Several more times. He shook his head quickly, as if trying to rid himself of the images that were just burned into his brain. "You and Loony...I don't think I'll ever get used to _that _match up."

Blaise walked by the blonde to get himself one of the snacks on the tray behind him, making sure to shove his shoulder quite firmly as he passed. "Because you and Granger are a match made in heaven."

"More like in Hades," Theo quipped merrily, mouth partially full again. "I dunno, Draco. Lovegood must be a kicker in the sheets to have Zabini grinning like that. Who knew all it would take to tame the beast was one crazy bint?"

The Italian swiped the other sandwich that Theo was fixing to shovel into his mouth – the man acted like he never got fed – and fixed him with an evil glare, "Luna's not crazy, Nott. Say it again and you're going to have trouble eating around the teeth I've knocked from your head."

Theo held up his hands in a supplicating gesture, but the quirk to the edge of his mouth made it obvious that he wasn't concerned over the threat. "Sorry, sorry, won't happen again."

"So...you and _her_." Draco started, Blaise's glare turned cautious when it refocused on him, his curiosity was getting the better of him. "Were you two actually dating before this whole...marriage thing happened?"

Blaise eyed the sandwich he still held, frowning at Theo's bite marks before tossing it aside and getting himself a fresh one. "No. She's not really my type, now is she?"

"I wasn't aware you had a type. Last I remember, you had yourself a taste for everything. And DID have yourself a taste of everything."

The dark man shrugged again at Draco's comment. "I suppose at some point we all have to grow up. We got our letters, same as you, we sat down to discuss everything after our meeting with the caseworker and actually..." He struggled with the next words, brow puckered and mouth set in a thin line, like he still had trouble saying it aloud, "Actually found we had quite a bit in common."

"You and Loony." Draco said flatly, the disbelief clear on his face.

"Her name, is _**Luna**_."

Blaise's stern correction caught him off guard. His best mate wasn't usually one to get so perturbed by his casual manner and jokes, but the way his shoulders tensed each time he took a subtle jab at the crazy woman, he suspected she really had her hooks in him. Draco never thought he'd see the day...

"I'm done talking about this," Blaise snapped sharply and allowed a sneer to curl his lips. "It is _your_ big day after all. You getting cold feet yet in preparation for your big _**night**_? Is that why you're so curious about our love life? Need some pointers?"

It was Draco's turn to glare. Theo didn't know about Granger and he didn't appreciate the unspoken threat to share her secret - which he'd reluctantly admitted to Blaise _in_ _confidence -_ to their less than socially graceful friend. "I assure you I'm perfectly capable of performing without any of your damning advice to ruin the evening."

"You sure? Maybe we can get in touch with Pans still and she can give you some feedback on how you did it for her."

"Zabini, I encourage you to watch your mouth."

"And I insist that you think more about what comes from yours before you open it. Unless you want a very naïve Gryffindor to be privy to one of our last conversations."

Draco's eyes narrowed and a silent understanding passed between him and Blaise. The man didn't make hollow threats. In as many words as he could without speaking Granger's secret so blatantly in front of the third wizard, he was warning him: _Don't fuck with my witch and I won't fuck with yours._

Draco could read it clearly in the dark man's equally dark eyes. With a grunt, he nodded and pushed away from his perch near the island. "I'm going to check on mother. Help yourself to more food," he stalked off grumbling.

Theo's eyes had been darting between the two during whatever the hell had just happened as he munched happily on his fifth little sandwich. "What was that all about?"

Blaise shook his head, making to follow after Draco, "Just eat your fucking sandwich, Nott."

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**A/N:** Okay...sorry, wedding and such weren't in this chapter as previously intended. They will be in the next one, however. I did a lot more with the first portion of this chapter than I originally planned for and I wanted to get an upload up this week. Hopefully it wasn't too bad. Thanks again all for reading and taking the time to review when you do, I appreciate all of your support!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in posting. I wanted to make good on the promise to include the wedding and such in the next update but things got a little lengthy. As a result, you get a two chapter update. Sorry in advance for editing mishaps, I'm going back through these again to try to find the awful things that I've missed in my hurry to get these posted, please give me a day or so before you sit down and PM or review with corrections (PMs preferred). Thanks much, all!

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_**Knowing You**_

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Ginny was working on the last of Hermione's curls, finally having eased the spring in them so they fell more elegantly instead of frizzing around her head. It wasn't a moment too soon either with only a couple of hours left before she was due to walk the aisle. Currently, she was working on pulling her thick mass of hair back to anchor it with a plethora of pins at a point high on the back of her head. So far, Ginny succeeded in at least working half of it to where it needed to be and it was going very well, though that didn't keep the growl from slipping free at the sound of a knock.

"MALFOY! I TOLD YOU WE'LL BE READY WHEN WE'RE FUCKING READY!"

Hermione winced at the yell so close by but she was still able to pick out something on the other side of the door past the ringing in her head. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes," Ginny grumbled, returning to her task, "Doesn't he get that this is a _process?_"

"No Gin, that wasn't Malfoy." A soft, muffled noise sounded again. "There! There it is again!"

The redhead frowned but listened harder and did hear a very non-masculine sound again. She pinned the rest of the cluster she was wrestling and found a stopping point that wouldn't ruin the work so far so she could hurry to the bedroom door. Ginny opened it cautiously, making sure that Hermione wasn't in line of sight if it _was_ actually Malfoy. When her eyes came to rest on the slim, yet so brightly clad, figure of Luna her face lit up.

"Luna! Oh my goodness! I haven't seen you in ages!" Ginny gave the woman only a second to acknowledge her existence before she grappled her into a tight hug.

Luna smiled gently, arms coming up to give the girl a firm squeeze until she was ready to release her. "Hello Ginny, it's good to see you as well. I've read about you in Seeker Weekly a bit, you seem to be doing well." The blonde peeked around Ginny and gave Hermione a small wave, "Hello Hermione. Congratulations on your wedding."

Hermione grinned at Luna's appearance, so happy to have her there, even if she was a bit eccentric. She found it'd grown on her after a while and in light of everything she wanted to be surrounded with as much of a sense of familiarity as was possible – even if it was eccentric familiarity. She started to move to greet her friend but was shot a very dangerous look by Ginny, clearly unhappy at the prospect of her possibly ruining the styling before it was completely secured. She blushed sheepishly and waved back to Luna, "Thank you, and thank you for coming. I know we haven't spoken much recently, but I'm happy you were able to make it."

Ginny held the blonde witch at arm's length, looking her over with a warm and welcoming smile that was so reminiscent of her mother's. She finally realized they were just loitering about in the partially opened doorway and tugged Luna in the rest of the way, closing and locking the door behind them. "How are you doing, Luna? How is your father?"

Luna examined the room with that same gentle smile on her face that she almost always had, "Dead."

The redhead blinked, "O-oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Oh that's alright," Luna said soothingly, making her way to stand near Hermione, "It was very sudden and unexpected and really there was nothing anyone could have done."

Hermione looked to Ginny and back to Luna nervously, having forgotten how awkward some of the moments with the blonde could be with how casual and airy she was about so many things. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." The blonde smiled simply and retrieved a silky white pouch from her handbag she was toting around to present it to Hermione. "It reminds me though, Draco sent me with something from his mother for you. Blaise as well."

The brunette accepted the bag, feeling the unmistakeable heft of jewelry contained within. Wearily, she dumped the contents into her palm, eying the silver pendant and a solid platinum band – too big to fit her – that now lay there. "What are these?"

Luna moved to take a seat on the edge of the bed near Hermione, smoothing her skirt, "Something borrowed. The ring is from Blaise. It's Draco's, for the ceremony."

"What was Blaise doing with it?" Ginny asked, coming around behind the bride-to-be to start work on her hair again while the three of them chatted.

"He's Draco's best man. We picked up the ring from the jeweler's yesterday."

"What were you doing with Blaise?" The second question came from Hermione but both the girls were looking at Luna curiously.

"Oh, we're married."

"You're what?!"

Luna watched the comb Ginny was holding clatter to the floor and bent to retrieve it, completely oblivious to the way the two witches were staring at her, jaws both hanging open. "We're married." She smiled softly at them both and held out her left hand to show a band with a comically large diamond sitting atop it.

"Merlin's PANTS look at that rock!" Ginny came forward, pulling the woman's hand into her own to get a closer look at the large gem. It was easily three times the size of the diamond on her own band.

"W-when did this happen?" Hermione stared at the witch, mortified at the fact that she had no idea they were even together.

Luna offered the comb back to Ginny after she was done inspecting her hand, folding them both in her lap. Her legs swung lazily off the edge of the mattress and she looked thoughtful. "Seven days ago as of today."

Hermione gasped, "A week? This happened last week?! Luna, I'm so sorry, I'm an awful friend. I've been so immersed in all of this bloody nonsense that I didn't even think of anyone else!"

"Oh, don't be," the blonde smiled reassuringly and patted Hermione's hand, "It was a small thing really. We just went to the courts. There has been a great deal going on with everyone recently, you know. We decided to save any kind of ceremony for later. We may renew our vows with one after his mother gets back from Italy."

The bed dipped when Ginny plopped down next to Luna. The redhead plucked at some errant Hermione hairs from her skirt, frowning. "You would do the whole thing again with Zabini? Wasn't he some kind of...well, I know what I heard in school..."

"That he had lots of sex?"

Color the shade of Ginny's hair flooded to her cheeks and she stared openly at the little blonde witch next to her. "Y-yeah...that's the one."

"Oh that's true. He did. He still does, as a matter of fact, but it's only with me now."

Hermione's cheeks were next to light up in embarrassment. Luna spoke about it so casually. She was almost jealous of that ability to be so frank and carefree at the same time.

Ginny sputtered, mouth opening and closing several times trying to formulate words, but the only things coming out were garbled sounds of disbelief. Normally not one to shy away from juicy gossip, the specific subject matter of Blaise and Luna's bedroom habits knocked her totally off her feet.

Luna was still swinging her feet and she focused with great interest on the sparkling polish she could see on her toes. "The other rumors were true, also. He's quite good."

A strangled burble came from the redhead and Luna finally glanced up from beneath her lashes to catch Hermione's eye and gave her a small grin, the mischievous glint in her eye obvious only to the brunette. A world of tension that she didn't know she was holding in her shoulders blew out of her then in the form of a body shaking laugh. Hermione laughed so loudly at both of them, that anyone would think she was positively barmy.

Swiping tears from the corners of her eyes, Hermione calmed her laughter into quieter chuckles. Luna was always full of surprises.

At first glance Luna simply seemed eccentric and airy, without a solid thought in the world floating around in that noggin of hers. There was a reason she had been sorted into Ravenclaw, however. The witch was painfully intelligent as well as observant, and while everyone tended to dismiss her as a crazy woman, she just used the time that others avoided her to watch and listen to them all. As such, she'd become unbelievably talented in reading people and could pluck out the most well concealed emotions and thoughts from a person's mannerisms with ease.

The majority of the time, Luna just kept to herself, but the rare show of playfulness in response to the myriad of emotions Hermione was trying her damnedest to tamp down on, brought a rush of warmth to her chest. Eyes still sparkling with mirth, she reached over to squeeze the blonde's hand and whisper, "Thank you."

Luna squeezed back and nodded to the necklace, "Are you going to wear it?"

Hermione sighed, leaning back in the chair that she was sure fused itself to her backside by now. "I'd really rather not." She picked up the pendant by the ribbon, eying the elegantly formed "M" in the center. She already had other plans for her jewelry once they were done with this hair business and the Malfoy family crest played absolutely NO part in it. Hermione only planned to uphold a few traditions with this whole business, the rest were just...not an option. If she gave into Narcissa's request, she would need to do it properly and she wasn't sure if she could do that without losing her head.

"Hermione! Your hand!"

Ginny's screech startled her and the brunette's attention darted from the Malfoy crest to the band she held. It took only seconds to see what she was pointing at. The otherwise unremarkable platinum ring was glowing softly, the metal having heated in her palm was now glittering with a magical inscription. She brought the thing closer to inspect the faint light moving subtly over the delicate cursive in slow, easy rounds; it was enough to draw the eye but not be overly obnoxious for the wearer or anyone in their present company. The effect was surprisingly tasteful, though when Hermione's eyes made out the inscription they first widened in interest, then narrowed in understanding.

"What does it say?" Ginny came around to peek.

"_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper." _The words came out in a hiss.

"Sanctimonia...where have I heard that before?"

"_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper,"_ Luna repeated the words evenly, "Purity will always conquer."

"It's the Malfoy family motto." Hermoine nearly growled, glaring hard at the band pinched between her fingers.

This was Draco's ring, so she couldn't say she was horribly surprised that he would include such a disgusting inscription on his wedding band, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn't ordered it for just the one. She didn't think to ask him much about the wedding bands after he'd presented her with her engagement stone. In fact, if she really thought of it, he did well down playing the jewelry on the few occasions that she actually did ask prior to them agreeing to a more formal ceremony.

"Purity," Ginny snorted, "And here I thought the git was finally growing some fucking sense. Oh! Hermione, you don't think he-"

"Luna, do you remember seeing the other ring when you were with Blaise to pick them up?" Hermione asked quickly, clamping her hand shut around the offensive inscription.

The witch tilted her head to one side, obviously rifling through her thoughts. "Not then, but I did see a bit of it when he was checking which to have me take to you."

"And were they the same from what you recall?"

"I should think so." Luna shrugged and tilted her head to the other side. "I don't know if the other has an inscription as well, but it would stand to reason that it did. I think most traditional wedding bands come in sets like that." The way she spoke wasn't meant to incite Hermione, just deliver the facts, though the brunette's mood was very quickly shifting to a dangerous and tumultuous one.

Hermione glared down at her closed fist. How could she have forgotten the kind of man she was dealing with? No wonder he went through such extravagant efforts for her engagement ring. She even admitted to him that she thought he was up to something...she just got caught up in his less-than-huge-slimy-git act and forgot that he was still a snake. It was all a ploy to distract her, to...to _**what**_? To get in her good graces? To make her trust him? It wasn't enough that they had to go through this in the first place, but he, of all people felt the need to trick her as well. Hermione realized in an instant that after all her careful wall building and avoidance, she actually _did_ trust him – what an idiot she had been.

All her insecurities came bubbling to the surface in a roiling boil and she started plugging explanations to Draco's actions and attitude over the past few weeks – some of them more off the wall than others – but all of them made her feel like a fool.

The way his teasing had changed from the derogatory insults to almost charming, extracting grins from her that she couldn't stop.

His subtle smiles that set her stomach fluttering and looked far more appealing than the constant sourness that used to plague his features in her presence.

Then there was the way he looked at her in his office days ago, gray eyes filled with drowsiness one second and the next wide and alert and taking her in – all of her in – in an appraising way that she never dreamed would ever come from the blonde boy that made her school life a living hell. The way they traced her curves and trailed her features with a fascination as though he'd never seen her before-

Luna's hand came out again to squeeze gently over top of Hermione's clenched fist. She spoke softly to ease Hermione's mounting, embarrassed rage. "The rings had been at the jeweler's a while. They were ordered a couple of weeks ago from what I gather."

Hermione ignored the witch's words at first, that heat of fury at being made to look so foolish, nearly blinding her, but Luna squeezed her hand again. She allowed herself to calm somewhat and she locked eyes with Luna's soft blue gaze. There was a gentle, if not beseeching, look there. There was also a glint of something else, a secret floating in her irises. At first, Hermione felt the rage flare again, the idea that the woman was hiding something from her, but she urged herself to reason once again – Luna would never approach her with malicious intent; if there was anything certain in this world, it was that.

A couple of weeks ago, she and Draco were still actively at each other's throats. There had been no amicable meetings, no pleasant exchanges, no understandings spoken or unspoken. There was a good chance that this petty retaliation at her contract demands happened before anything had begun to shift in their interactions. In fact, it _had_ to have happened before then...it had to have been before he presented her with the engagement ring, none of it would make sense otherwise. Hermione blew out a concentrated breath, willing some of her anger to go with it. Even though she was sure this was the case, it didn't stop the stifling pressure in her chest from its slow budding ache.

"Hermione?" Ginny placed a hand on her shoulder carefully, "Are you alright?"

The brunette turned her eyes up to her friend's concerned face, the muscles of her jaw ticking with the way she was grinding her teeth together and focusing on her breathing. Hermione took another deep breath in and out, exhaling more of the tension from her shoulders before nodding. She didn't realize how hard she was clenching her fist until she opened it again and felt the telltale sting of where her nails had bit into her flesh.

When she saw the faintly glowing inscription again, instead of her rage flaring, it was replaced with a deeply seated feeling of disappointment. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much, she DID start this whole thing understanding exactly who and what Draco Malfoy was. In her head, Hermione realized that she couldn't truthfully be upset with him. This was something she would normally have expected from him. It was a technicality; it was _always _a technicality. She'd explicitly stated she wouldn't wear the Malfoy heirloom with such trash on it, she never specified she didn't want it on her person, period. She'd failed to take the proper precautions in her wording and as such, he capitalized on it in the way he always did, as if to show he was just that much smarter than she. It was something typical of the way their dysfunctional relationship, _functioned._ Somehow, though, over the last couple of weeks, she'd entered in to a strange, begrudging kind of partnership with him in their fate that neither of them desired. They were reluctant compatriots in a way, she'd started to see them both on the same level in the midst of all this tension and chaos...and with that realization she found she expected more from him.

She was disappointed in his old ways.

She was disappointed that the symbolism he was presenting her with was evidently still alive and well with his beliefs.

She was disappointed that she noticed.

She was disappointed that she _cared_.

Hermione sat silently for uncounted moments, staring at Draco's band in one hand and her color shifting stone decorating the other. The depression that she'd been battling over this all, that sadness that he – of all people – had actually been helping her fight with his distractions and familiar banter, tried to come rolling back in. She felt Ginny's hand at her back, rubbing circles now between her shoulder blades and occasionally catching a cluster of her beautifully half-done curls with a tug. Hermione knew in her head that the concern in the witch's expression had moved on to that piteous stare that she was so sick and tired of seeing, and she grit her teeth against it.

She was not a victim.

Hermione Granger was not a pitiful witch that deserved the sad puppy eyes that she caught the people around her giving her each day. First, it was because of an unfortunate career choice. Then as more of her friends caught wind, it was because of her parents. Next it was Ron. Following that, the eyes stared at her, judging or sympathetic to her name being a near permanent fixture on the sleazy tabloids' front page. Now, it was because of all of that and her situation with Malfoy. How was she to go on about her bloody day normally with so many people looking at her like they did? In a way, she thought she'd found a twisted kind of solace in her unlikely companion, and now even that appeared to be questionable at least.

The witch pushed off from her seat suddenly, a piece of Malfoy jewelry in both hands as she stalked to the window she'd been stealing glances through all day. Peeking through the blinds, she could see the ceremony's setting completed. The yard looked gorgeous and she could make out some familiar red heads and a few others milling about on her side of the white runner. Mrs. Malfoy was entertaining someone she couldn't make out and likely didn't know near one of the butterfly cages and her eyes sought out and locked on to the picture of Blaise Zabini next to the pale head of her soon-to-be husband discussing something in a very agitated fashion.

Even from here, Draco looked perfectly put together. She couldn't be sure, but she just knew that there wasn't a hair out of place on his head and those smooth, finely tailored robes did nothing but flatter him in every way imaginable. Hermione even saw the glint of a cool gold shade from his vest – he must have spelled it to match the tie she charmed – and it made her heart shudder and her stomach flip in the best and worst of ways. Things like that, subtle things that nobody else would know or think to notice beyond the two of them, jarred her the most. Hermione had a very hard time believing _that_ Draco and the spiteful little prat from roughly a month ago were one in the same. She looked into her hand holding the band again, lips in a tight line.

_People don't change that quickly..._

Her eyes narrowed. "Ginny-"

"Yeah? What do you need, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned at how eager and careful the witch's voice was, she didn't need to see her to know what look she was giving. "When is Harry due to arrive?"

"Um.." Ginny looked round the room until she spotted a Muggle clock on the bedside table and examined the green backlit numbers. "Another half hour or so. He had some things that needed to be taken care of at the office and should be getting ready at home by now. Why?"

"Can I ask you a favor?" Hermione turned back to stare at her, the expression on her face hard and stoic and impenetrable – a look perfected after too many years of being ridiculed for one thing or another, it was her second home.

Ginny glanced to Luna nervously, but the blonde was just observing quietly, giving nothing away as to what she was thinking. "Sure, anything. What do you need?" She asked again.

Hermione walked to the closest side table, resting the jewelry on its surface and rifling around through the drawer and the few things inside until she was able to procure a writing utensil and scrap of paper. She took the moment to scribble several words on the small bit of parchment before walking it and Draco's wedding ring over to Ginny and offering both of them to her.

"I need you to get Harry, tell him to go here and ask for Oliver," she pointed to a place listed on the paper, "The instructions are here," she pointed again. "This has to be back in two hours, all charges can be billed directly to my account, I authorize my payment in full and up front."

Ginny took both items, eyes scanning over Hermione's delicate scribbles, her mouth slowly curving upwards into a wicked grin. "Alright, consider it done. But what about your hair? And makeup!"

"I'll do it."

The two witches' heads whipped in the direction of the bed, having forgotten all about Luna who was now standing, skirt swishing daintily with the subtle twisting pivot of her hips and a patient smile on her face.

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"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, _fuck._" Draco was doing his hardest to resist combing his hand back through his hair and mussing it before the ceremony.

Blaise shrugged unapologetically even with the hollow words on his lips, "Sorry mate. If I had known you were planning on being a right prick to your wife, well I probably still would've had Luna take it to her. I just would've been more careful about letting you know."

Draco shot him a glare, "Good to know. Why are you my best man again?"

"Because I'm the only one that would say yes." Blaise flashed him a winning smile and shrugged again, "It's not as though you could do anything about it now anyway, no sense in working yourself up over it."

"I'm _not_ working myself up," the blonde growled, swiping a hand over his face in frustration, "I can't believe I fucking forgot."

"Maybe she won't see it until later? That'd give you some time to explain yourself. And really, how is she to know that hers matches anyway?"

Draco blinked incredulously, "She's Hermione Granger. If she sees it, she'll work it out. She's bloody brilliant, or have you forgotten?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the casual compliment, wondering if the blonde even realized the slip, "Well even Granger has her moments of weakness I suppose. All you can do is hope." He watched the other wizard nod with his stare focused off to the distance, as though he were trying to convince himself. Blaise grinned and added, "You also might want to guard your bollocks tonight though. Just in case."

From the corner of his eye, Blaise saw a familiar mane of long blonde hair and an obnoxiously bright mish-mash of colors. He blinked at his wife, watching her at the butterfly cage on the other side of the arch reaching inside and collecting a handful of small blue butterflies. Just as quickly as she came, she went, disappearing back into the house.

Draco's eyes also followed the form of Luna and leaned in towards Blaise, "What was she doing?"

The Italian shrugged yet again, "Hell if I know. You just learn to go with it."

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Hermione was staring, she was staring so hard at her reflection in the floor length mirror and all the excitement for the ceremony, all the anger and disappointment she'd felt in Draco, all of it bled away and she was filled with something else she couldn't quite describe. Regret? Confusion? Bitterness? Maybe a combination of those things and more. Whatever it was, it all swirled together in the pit of her stomach, churning and mixing and being so overbearing that all that she could actually feel was numb. It was either nothing or _everything_ all at once.

Luna finished with her hair a while back and she'd also done an excellent job of helping with her makeup and the soft and easy look she desired. Hermione had decided to wear Narcissa's pendant in a way of acknowledgment and a thank you for the work she'd put forward to put everything together; even if she was upset with Draco, there was no reason to be disrespectful to the witch. Although, with the necklace came the need to fulfill the rest of the custom. Hermione was specifically avoiding this one.

If the pendant was something borrowed, the dress was something new, and – bless her heart – the butterflies Luna gathered from the cage put under a sleeping spell and arranged in a fanciful crown to compliment her hairdo were her something blue, it only left the something old.

"Hermione, is this what you were looking for?"

Hermione swallowed, eyes still stuck to her reflection. They didn't budge until Luna came further into her line of sight, offering her a square shaped, velvet jewelry box. Hermione's stare shifted to eye the box wearily, the case so obviously old and worn by the crushed pile and smudges of darker splotches here and there. She took it with shaking hands, hoping Luna wouldn't notice, or at least wouldn't mention it. Running her fingertips over the fuzzy lid, she cracked it open, slowly, carefully, unaware of the fact she was holding her breath until the jewelry came into view.

The case's satin lining was threadbare and torn, but the earring card was still stiff and well in tact. Hanging off the card was a pair of drop earrings in the shape of a fluttering ladybug. The metal was a pale gold, the imitation bugs were as well, and set into the shaped wings were cut rubies with a round black diamond for the head. At first glance, even with the small expense of the precious stones, they appeared little better than costume jewelry, but for Hermione, they were much more important than that.

The earrings were a gift from her father to her mother, received on the day they found out her mother was pregnant. Hermione remembered the story of them from the very first time she thought to ask her dad why he always called her "bug". It was rather lackluster if she were honest.

Her father loved giving gifts but could always barely contain himself to keep from spoiling a surprise for any special occasion. The earrings were meant as part of an anniversary present – her mother having such an odd fascination with the tiny bugs in general – but when they went to the doctor and found out for sure that her mother was pregnant, he made it an excuse to give them to her early. It wasn't very romantic at the time, but it was so typically him and it became a joke between them. He used the name for her throughout the pregnancy, even after they agreed on her name, and it just stuck.

This piece of jewelry was one of the last things she had from when they were together. In her hasty exit, she wasn't able to take many pictures, but she made time to take these. At the time, she justified it by telling herself that they were too emotionally charged and bound to her that seeing or touching them may have messed up her memory charm and revealed them before it was safe. She would just remove them from their sight and minds – after all, why would you need to keep something from the celebration that the child you don't even remember you had was on its way?

It was to keep them safe.

That was the story she told herself.

"They're lovely."

Hermione startled, eyes wide and red with unshed tears as she all at once remembered Luna's presence. "Th-thank you." She ran her fingers over the ladybugs, smiling ruefully. "They were my mother's. I suppose this would be something borrowed as well really...but I don't ever plan to see her again so...so I won't be returning them." The words were meant to be clever, a quip, but they came out to be nothing but resentful.

Luna moved to stand at the witch's side, slightly behind her to peer over Hermione's bare shoulder and catch her eyes in the mirror. She stroked a hand softly down the loose, cascading curls at her back, fingers tugging on them idly and making them spring back into place. "You can never be sure of these things. People that love you have a way of finding their way back."

The brunette scoffed, easing into her well practiced role of reciting from her massive knowledge stores as a means to distract herself from feeling..._everything_. "I don't buy into wishful thinking, Luna. I've waited too long to get them. The risks associated with a reversal of the charm only increase exponentially the longer it is between the initial onset of it and the attempt. The more new memories of false lives that have to be overridden with the truth, the more likely it is something will backfire. Plus, they are already at a higher risk simply for being Muggles...so really...I am sure."

"Is that why you're doing this?"

"Doing what?" She feigned ignorance, knowing full well what she was asking.

"Getting married like this?"

"Well I don't really have much of a choice _but_ to marry Malfoy-"

"_No_."

The one word was stern and the delivery shocked Hermione into looking back up to meet Luna's stare in the looking glass. Those shiny blue orbs, normally so glazed and light, were open and focused hard on her face. They reminded her of the eyes of a babe who was finally learning and understanding the world around them on a higher level of thought for the first time, only this knowledge was not knew to Luna; it was just extremely well masked. It seemed that sometimes even Hermione forgot that there was much more to this witch than she realized.

Luna's gaze softened again, "What are you doing, Hermione?"

The gentleness of the question made the knot in her throat grow, she did her best to swallow around it and ignore the pressing sting in her eyes. Luna's slender arms wrapped around her shoulders in a cautious hug and Hermione's jaw clenched, biting back the tremble of her lip.

Today was the last she would think of them, the last that she would think of anything as it was ever _supposed_ to be. She would take from today what she could because tomorrow would be the start of a life not her own. She would take today for herself because tomorrow, this community she'd been so happy to be a part of will have taken everything else.

"I'm moving on."

Hermione watched her reflection, numb fingers tugging the earrings from the case and methodically putting one in, then the other. Her stare raked over her figure. The mixture of colors and summer accents on her dress, jewels, and hair along with the shades of her bouquet would make her the perfect picture of a blushing summer bride – just perfect.

"Oh my goodness! Hermione! You look gorgeous!"

The brunette turned to the doorway, neither her nor Luna having noticed when Ginny had returned. The familiar red head was peeking around the edge of the door and at the sight of her ready to go, she excitedly rushed the rest of the way in to fawn over her, but Hermione was more interested in the lightly mussed head of short dark hair and weary green eyes peering into the room behind a pair of the most familiar round rimmed glasses.

"Harry!" Hermione brightened visibly, turning around to face him. Her smile was only slightly strained and when he stepped into the room to wrap her in a warm embrace, it fell away to make way for the emotions she'd been pushing away. Even clad in his fancy digs and gelled up hair, he smelled like ink, like parchment, he smelled of his office, of toothpaste, that funny cheap cologne he liked to wear whose scent tickled her nose – he smelled of familiarity, of home, of family.

Harry felt the woman's nails biting into his shoulders through all the layers of his uncomfortable dress robes. Her back and shoulders were tense beneath his palms and her chest was pushing against his in a quick staccato. He frowned and gingerly moved her from him only far enough to see her face. The tears welling in her eyes were obvious and they made his chest clench. Harry swept his fingers beneath her lower lashes, carrying away the moisture before it had a chance to drop.

Uncaring of the small audience, Harry smiled softly and spoke in a low, soothing tone, "Hey, that'll mess up your makeup. There's no need for that...do you want me to kill him for you? It seems a waste of such a nice setting, but I suppose we could just celebrate once it's all done."

Hermione choked out a laugh but shook her head, a few more tears slipping free and tumbling over the thumbs still running over her cheeks. She nudged his hands away and dabbed at her eyes, embarrassed at the spectacle she was making. She accomplished nothing until Harry offered her his kerchief, then blotted the tears as carefully as she could. Hermione tested her throat a few times before she was able to speak shakily. "It's fine. It's not him."

Harry smirked, pulling a satin pouch from his pocket and shaking it, "You sure? I dare say he might deserve it."

She chuckled again and nodded, turning back to the mirror so she could more carefully dry her eyes. "Yes. Though, thank you for reminding me of that...it actually put me in a much better mood thinking of what his expression will be when he receives it."

"I hope his eyes bug a bit. I should have a camera ready for that."

"I'm sure they will. That vein in his head will likely pop too."

"_Fantastic._ ...erm...Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Are those butterflies in your hair?"

"Yes."

"Are they..alive?"

"..yes."

"Where did you—oh, hi Luna."

"Hullo, Harry."

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"You're fidgeting."

"I'm not, shut it."

Blaise grinned, watching Draco very subtly shift his weight from one foot to the other, occasionally reaching up to smooth his bowtie or edges of his vest and then clasp his hands in front of him. He did this a few times. Shift, tie, vest, hands. Shift, tie, vest, hands. They'd gotten the announcement finally that the bride was ready to walk down the aisle and Narcissa rushed them into their spots along with the official from The Ministry. All the guests were seated, and Blaise was standing next to his friend with amusement plain on his face at how nervous the man actually was for this. Sure, others may not be able to tell, but he knew his mannerisms like the back of his hand and the blonde _was_ fidgeting.

Draco hadn't completely calmed himself after realizing that he'd left the Malfoy inscription on Hermione's wedding band and the hell that was bound to erupt after she found out. Maybe she didn't notice or think anything of it, she certainly hadn't come to castrate him yet so he had hopes that at least they wouldn't get into it in front of all of these people; he tried to have a _little_ more decorum than that if possible. Speak of the devil, as his thoughts circled around for the umpteenth time, some tinny procession music started playing from the witch's odd Muggle music device near the patio doors.

First to emerge was Ginny. She held a small bouquet of wildflowers, hair down and straight, the red of it flowing into the Gryffindor red of the knee length dress. It was a simple but elegant thing that flared at the hips, layers of sheer skirts fluttering in the gentle breeze of the afternoon, all anchored below her bust with a gold sash a bit darker than the shade of Draco's vest and tie.

Ginny caught Draco's stare halfway down the aisle and quirked an eyebrow, though other than that her look was carefully controlled – so much so that the anxiety he'd been suffering through for the past hour reignited in an instant.

Their wedding party was small, practically nonexistent, Hermione didn't want to worry about coordinating much more beyond having her best friend there at her side. This being the case, Draco wasn't surprised when he saw Potter appear from the doors next to change the music to an appropriate bridal march. The green eyed wizard scurried back in the house and it was barely a few minutes before he reemerged with the bride on his arm.

Draco knew she was due to appear. His stomach was flipping with his earlier concerns, more worried about the inevitable scene due from his negligence. Whatever he was thinking of when she appeared with her arm linked with Saint Potter's fizzled out and he felt his jaw go slack.

Hermione was clenching her bouquet in a white knuckled grip, eyes downcast to the white runner before her. Her right hand was digging painfully into Harry's bicep but he was good about it and didn't complain. The wizard leaned over to whisper some encouragement in her ear and she nodded, focusing mainly on just putting one foot in front of the other, the reality of the situation nearly petrifying. She kept her view from the impending altar and meeting the stares of any of the few guests for as long as possible until she was certain she wouldn't loose her nerve.

Draco's silver eyes raked down the brunette's figure, taking in her bare, lightly sunkissed shoulders and arms. Her head was bent, watching her steps carefully, but he could see how her normally huge and frizzy head of hair had been relaxed and drawn back behind her. The locks were smooth against her scalp until they reached the back of her head where they gathered and spilled out into impossibly long spirals that he surmised went a long ways down her back now that they lacked their tight coil. There was some kind of hairpin holding them in place but he could only see a handful of brilliant blue butterflies, their wings beating in very slow and languid movements as they rested on it. He could make out a flash of black at her neck, but his surprise that she chose to wear his mother's pendant was short-lived when he finally got to have a look at his bride in her several thousand Galleon wedding dress – and seeing her, he couldn't find it anywhere in his bones to regret any of it.

The gown outlined her perfect hourglass figure, the white silk hugging her body just as it was made to, the garment flaring out at the knees with the barest of trains trailing behind her. He expected the solid white color, in his head sure it would wash out her complexion but somehow Endora selected the most perfect shade of white that it did nothing but compliment every curving inch of her – he didn't even know white _came_ in shades. True to form, the designer had to throw her signature touch on what he was sure changed it from a plain and simple thing to a priceless work of art.

On her front, Draco could make out what had to be hundreds upon hundreds of tiny white pearls, all arranged in a picture of pure magnificence. At her center, the pearls formed an outline of a stylized phoenix, its feathered wings and tail feathers stretching and swirling, curving and flowing over Hermione's own womanly shape, down, and around, and back. The tail fanned out to reach all the way to the hemline, edging that and the train in delicate whirls of mock flames. To further accent Endora's vision, small cuts of golden beads, topaz, and ruby stones lined parts of the design, deepening in their respective shades the closer they came to the ground to bring to life the most breathtaking image of a bird bursting from a bed of fire.

Now Draco understood what she had meant. When he realized that the little coloring actually in her dress equated to the Gryffindor red and gold shades, a smirk curved his lips – the woman had him at his own wedding wearing, at least in part, his rival house's colors and he never suspected a thing.

Hermione reached about halfway through the walk and finally dared to look up, focusing on his face immediately. Her features were taut with stress and worry, chin set and jutting out slightly in the way it did when she was trying to put on a brave face, even though her eyes were huge and terrified. That lasted just seconds before she relaxed noticeably, even her shoulders easing with a slight droop, and her glossy lips twitched once, twice, three times then curved up in a shy smile before her head dipped down again.

Draco couldn't figure why she was smiling until he felt the dull ache in his cheeks and came to find that he had, in fact, started it and she was actually smiling _at him_. Too many thoughts came to his head then. Thoughts of how she looked much more like herself when she did that, how much of a woman she'd actually become since he first came to know the frizzy headed know-it-all, how spot on Blaise was about her figure...how _**just for**_ _**a moment**_ it felt like this was actually real...

Blaise nudged Draco discreetly, breaking him from his thoughts and speaking out the corner of his mouth at a level only they could hear, "And to think, she'd been keeping all that hidden under those dumpy robes all this time."

"No fucking shit," Draco breathed out in astonishment just before Potter finally reached the point where he would hand her off. Shaking himself back to the present, he stepped forward to meet them. The dark haired wizard extended his hand to him and Draco looked at it skeptically before finally taking it.

They shook hands and Harry pulled Draco into a half hug, leaning casually towards his ear so the wizard could hear him loud and clear. "Remember our first conversation, Malfoy. I meant every word."

Draco jerked back, just enough to see the man's face and take in the intense seriousness in the green eyes staring hard into his. A blonde eyebrow ticked upwards but he nodded, earning him one in return. Harry extracted himself from Draco's grip and returned to face Hermione. The two shared a short set of whispered words and he gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek before finally guiding her hand into his. Draco and Hermione took their places then at the altar, the official beginning a drawn out introductory speech.

This close, Draco could make out more of the details in her face and makeup. He couldn't recall seeing her wear the stuff much before, a Ministry event here or there maybe, but that was about it. Even now, the touches were slight but he knew very well what she looked like without it, so he could pick out the embellishments.

Her skin was smooth and untouched for the most part, maybe an artificial pink to the apples of her cheeks, because she certainly couldn't be blushing for him now. Her eyes were smudged in a tasteful amount of kohl that did everything to make the rich chocolate of her irises pop and he nearly lost himself in counting the spots that sparkled like the topaz on her dress. Draco felt the soft breeze of her whisper across the skin of his neck and his stare refocused to plump lips, tinged a darker pink than usual but not obnoxiously so. He saw them moving, working to form a question for his ears only but he missed it, that niggling thought about the taste of her gloss bubbling back to the forefront of his mind.

"What's that?"

"I _said, _if you stared any harder your eyes would pop clean out of your head," Hermione hissed. Her words were snappy and smart as they always were, but he heard the waver that belied the true state of her nerves.

He gave her his best smirk, "I was just admiring the makeover, Granger. Who knew you would clean up so well?"

The snort she gave was unladylike but subtle enough. "You look shockingly close to a proper gentleman, yourself. Color _me_ surprised."

Draco chuckled, but any further back and forth they would've had was cut short by the official now addressing them for their parts. Their vows were simple and without decoration. The word 'love' was never used once in the entire thing, giving him only their promises to honor, provide for, and protect each other, bound by word and magic for the rest of their natural lives. The exchanging of bands as symbolism was a more modern addition to the wizarding ceremony, but as soon as the time came, the lightheartedness in Draco fled for the hills.

Blaise retrieved the slender thing from his robes and dropped it into Draco's palm, giving him a pat on the shoulder and a look for a silent wish of 'good luck'.

Draco held the thing between his thumb and forefinger, doing his best to keep from touching it as much as possible, the inscription was magicked to bloom to life after it was warmed against the hand. He exhaled a breath full of poorly concealed nervousness and met Hermione's eyes. She stared back at him, left hand held up with fingers splayed, a suspicious look of expectancy waiting for him there.

"Hermione...I give you this ring that you may wear it as a reminder, token, and symbol of my vows and promises to you on this day."

He watched with baited breath as he slid the platinum onto her finger, wishing for it to just stay cool enough that she wouldn't notice until later. Perhaps it was because he was wishing for it as hard as he was that it essentially told him to bugger the hell off and flared to life almost instantaneously. Draco saw her sculpted brown brow lift and her head tilt to one side as she watched the lettering emerge. Her lips moved silently, mouthing the three damning words of his family's most sacred motto.

Hermione's head panned upwards oh-so-slowly, eyes narrowing and a certain something clicking into place. Her chin set forward and the muscles and tendons in her jaw and neck ticked. Her mouth strained to stretch into a hollow smile. "Draco...you shouldn't have."

The blonde had no time to retort when Ginny moved into their space, her presence always somehow carrying a lot of weight for such a slender thing. The redhead gave him the most discreet of glares and provided Hermione with the wedding band Luna delivered earlier.

As soon as Ginny moved from their space, Hermione's right hand clenched painfully around Draco's left wrist, sure to catch his gaze with a very perturbed one of her own, despite the smile she showcased – more a baring of teeth than anything else.

"_Draco,"_ Hermione slipped his band on firmly, so far back that it dug into the webbing between his fingers and she held it there, smile turning saccharine sweet, "I give _you_ this ring that you may wear it as a reminder, token, and symbol of my vows, promises, and _ideals_ spoken to you on this day."

Draco frowned at her profound addition to the speech, seeing that she'd yet to remove her hand from his. When she finally drew back, he blinked down at his ring and the softly shining words. His brow furrowed, mouthing them much as she had. He rolled the Latin over in his head until he understood and looked at her with astonishment similar to what he'd felt just at the sight of her before. The witch had somehow been able to change the magical inscription to read what roughly translated into the sentiment: _Virtue can only flourish among__st__ equals._

The official behind the altar spoke to the crowd, doing what he did and gushing on about another happy union. All the while Draco couldn't help the wide-eyed look he was giving the witch whose smug expression was quickly fading to one of confusion at the lack of anger at her stunt. He was flipping through the possibilities of how she could've accomplished such a task in such a short time frame and while there were more than a handful of ways, all of them left him feeling – dare he say it – highly impressed with the cleverness and resourcefulness these things would have required.

"_I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."_

Hermione blinked at him, the reveal of her ploy not going at all as she'd expected. Instead, they were just standing there, awkwardly, with her blinking like a bird and him staring with his jaw slightly unhinged. The silence was growing loud very quickly and with it came a tide of embarrassment. The official had told him to kiss her and he was just standing there, stock still, making no such move while all of their friends and his family watched on. How ridiculous. How embarrassing. How absolutely fucking _**awful**_**-**

The witch's train of thought was cut short when his hand came up to cup her jaw. His thumb brushed across the thickness of her bottom lip, coming away with a thin layer of the pink shine that coated it on the pad. She felt his other hand touch the curve of her waist, pausing for just a second, then trailing down to the bone of her hip and tugging her gently to him until she had to lift her arms to rest at his shoulders – the same way she stood in their act for the realtor. Although this time her heart was thudding against her ribcage and the rush of blood in her ears was deafening. There was a definite shift in the air spurred by the way he was looking at her with darkened mercurial eyes.

Hermione saw him leaning in, his face coming so close until the act of watching him would've made her go cross-eyed, so she shut her eyes. She felt the puff of his breath dance across her face and he tugged her just that much closer still.

"How very Slytherin of you, Granger..."

'Malfoy,' her brain corrected him automatically. Not for any desire to wear the surname, but just because they were pronounced man and wife now and it was technically correct. The internal argument was short-lived when his lips came to finally press and connect with her own.

_Soft..._

_..warm.._

_..wet..._

The tactile memory resurfaced, mingling with the new experience and planting it firmly back in her memory banks. She was too lost in having Malfoy kissing her for her mind to move much further beyond that. Her own lips were pressed tightly together, the act of kissing a man one that she hadn't engaged in since her last failed relationship, which was the better part of a year and a half ago at least – even if it were any more recent, kissing Ron was absolutely _nothing_ like this.

Where the redhead's mannerisms were always clumsy and careless, Draco's lips feathered over hers, careful and precise, just like anything else the man did. He warmed her to him first, rubbing and nuzzling and allowing a low contented sound to vibrate against her before he moved again. Draco coaxed the tension in her pursed lips away with a silky massage of his own until they parted with a small gasp.

The hand holding her cheek shifted. Draco's fingertips dipped into the edge of her hairline to angle her in a more favorable way and grant him further access to her mouth. Her skin was so soft and heated under the pads of his fingers, he found he wanted to explore more to see if all of it was the same. He traced higher into her curls, wanting to feel the cool silky weight of them tickling over the back of his hand, sacrificing some of her carefully styled updo along the way. Draco moved his other hand up over the small of her back, trailing with featherlight touches up her spine to rest between her shoulder blades and press her closer. A quiet groan slipped from him when she arched in his hold and pressed the swell of her breasts to his chest in the most tantalizing way.

Hermione shivered, a whimper crawling up her throat to pass back to Draco through their fused lips. The way he gruffly adjusted her along the length of his body thrilled her in a way her fuzzyheaded brain couldn't quite comprehend. Draco's normally collected and premeditated behavior had all but flown out the window at the touch of their lips. She felt his hand at her back running over the exposed bit of skin of her shoulder and arm, trailing a searing path up to her elbow and all the way back down to her hip, pulling her closer still. His fingers pressed lightly into the flesh there but they twitched as though he wasn't sure where he wanted them next.

Her soft, barely there, dulcet tones plucked a chord in him that sent signals shooting from his ears, to his chest, to his stomach, to his groin. A much more primitive part of his brain surfaced more and more each time she made one of those sounds and it was all he could do to just keep his hips locked and straight. A nagging voice in his head said he needed to release her, that the kiss was over and the situation was escalating to a point that was very much inappropriate for a wedding. The next mewl breathed against his mouth was also accompanied by the tips of her nails biting down lightly into the flesh of his neck and scalp, thoughts of releasing her were quickly fading, and the low growl that vibrated against her in response was inevitable. Draco's nostrils flared, scenting the lingering fragrance of flowers that surrounded her and tasting the new gloss on her lips for the umpteenth time – cherries, his favorite dessert.

Hermione felt, more than heard, Draco's rumble against her, his grip tightening to bruising. The way he held her, how he conformed to her body, how the firm presses of his hands and fingers burned a trail of fire through every inch of her he touched and made things low in her body clench reflexively – it was dizzying and damning. Goosebumps erupted all down the length of her arms and the strength in her knees weakened as he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth.

The hungry growl rattling her skull when their teeth butted against each other was barely enough to pull Hermione from her haze. Her hands unhooked from around Draco's neck where they'd gone and latched themselves together. Hermione moved them to graze over his pointed jaw, brushing across his chiseled cheekbones to cup his face and coax herself free.

Draco loosened his hold on her, his lips releasing reluctantly as well with a soft sucking sound. The grunt that escaped him at the loss of her heat was involuntary and he made to cover it with a faked clearing of his throat, coming back to his senses. He opened his eyes, blearily coming to focus on his new wife – Hermione Granger...no, Hermione _Malfoy_ – teetering unsteadily. Her eyes opened slowly and they were glazed, pupils stretched wide. The shine to her parted, lightly panting mouth was nearly all gone and he suspected probably transferred to his own, and several spirals of hair were now slipping into her face from his carelessness in handling her.

She looked well and thoroughly snogged and he was the culprit.

Draco couldn't help himself when he reached out to tuck her miscreant curls back behind her ears – he was responsible, after all.

He also couldn't help the sense of relief at realizing crossing the physical barrier with this woman may not be nearly as hard as he thought.

Nor could he help the equal amount of rapidly mounting fear that crossing the physical barrier with this woman may not be nearly as hard as he thought...

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-..-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

Draco sipped at the golden liquid in his champagne flute, doing his very best to avoid staring hard at the people mingling about on the makeshift dance floor. Mostly, he was avoiding staring at his new wife as she stood speaking with the surviving Weasley twin and his wife at the edge of the dance tiles as Potter and Longbottom were fiddling with some cases by Hermione's music machine.

"So-"

Draco's head snapped in the direction of his best man who toasted him with his own flute once he had his attention. He grumbled irritatedly, "What now Blaise?"

The Italian took a long sip from his glass, "Oh nothing. I just couldn't help but notice you over here brooding instead of asking your _lovely_ wife to the customary first dance."

"First, I'm not brooding. Second, there's no music. And third, I'm not dancing."

Blaise leaned up against the table they were nearest to, counting the times Draco's eyes went from pulling away from his new wife to zipping back to her only to draw away again with obvious amusement. "Whatever happened to tradition then?"

Draco mumbled into the edge of his glass before having another sip, "I think we just broke all the bloody traditions in the book by going through with this..."

"Oh but Drakey-poo," Blaise's grin only grew when his friend twitched at Pansy's old and most loathed nickname, "You were so gung-ho about your customs before, what happened to get your knickers all in a twist?" When Draco responded only with another silent sip of his drink, avoiding his dark stare, Blaise tilted his head and spoke more seriously. "Was it the kiss?"

Draco just narrowed his eyes at the wizard and busied himself with downing the rest of his glass and moving to find another.

Blaise strolled casually behind Draco, waiting until he'd scooped up another flute before he took him by the bicep and led him to a nice shaded spot behind the big tree in the yard, away and out of sight of most of the other guests. "It _was_ the kiss then."

"Do you ever stop nosing?"

"Not particularly, no," he shrugged, "I mean, it looked good. It looked _very_ good." Blaise's grin was really more of a leer. "VERY enjoyable. It's a good thing she was housed under the gown and probably an unimaginable amount of layers that those women always seem to have under those things or she might've had a run in with little Draco. That snog was sizzlin', mate. I think you had all the women swooning with that one. Well that and all of Granger's admirers wanting to rip your bollocks off."

Draco glared at his friend openly in response, "If you'll never refer to my prick as 'little Draco' ever again, I would be _eternally_ grateful, Blaise. It was just a kiss for the ceremony, just for show, nothing more. I could care less what any of her friends had to say or think about the whole bloody thing. I'm just glad it's finally fucking over." He tried very hard not to recall the pliant way her back bowed for him when he was certain she'd felt more than just the hard lines of muscle pressed against her. He mumbled very quietly into his glass, "There weren't that many layers..."

It wasn't quiet enough.

"Oh?" His interest was piqued instantly, "Do tell! Did you get a feel for what she _did_ have underneath? I imagine it'd have to be a dainty little thing with how snug that dress is. Maybe some fancy lingerie." Blaise thought about it to himself and shook his head, "No, with Granger it'd have to be more practical. Probably just some lacy knickers."

Draco's eyes narrowed further at the dark man, the casual way he spoke about her undergarments bringing a twitch to one of his eyes. He didn't get a good feel for what she could've possibly had under the gown and he'd been actively avoiding speculating it ever since her first whimper spilled onto his tongue and made something very primal click into place to have him nearly lose his head in front of their guests. The idea of his friend so boldly admitting to thinking about his wife's panties instinctively caused his hackles to rise.

"THERE you are!"

The blonde's thoughts of poking his friend just kind of a little too hard in the jugular were interrupted by Ginny's exclamation. Draco greeted her with a grimace, "Potterette."

"Ferret," she responded and grabbed for his wrist, glaring when he reflexively jerked his arm out of her reach. "We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way."

Draco raised an eyebrow at the stubborn hands on hip stance that was likely very reminiscent of the Mother Weasley, though it only brought a familiar brunette to mind. "Do what? Do I get to even know what you're attempting to make me do before we get into it on my wedding day, Red?"

"Really? Are you that thick? We're waiting on you for the dancing to start, ya git. Why do you think Harry and Neville have been fooling with that demon contraption of Hermione's for the last twenty minutes?"

He shrugged, "They got tired of consuming free food and drink that I paid for?"

At her huff and folded arms, he rolled his eyes and pushed off from the tree. The sooner they got this day over with, the sooner things could get back to normal. Although, the quicker this afternoon progressed, the more prominent thoughts of tonight became and the more he considered having enough Firewhiskey to cause a permanent spot of black on his memory.

Ginny watched with satisfaction as Draco shuffled his way back to the crowd of people, depositing his emptied glass on one of the tables as he went. She observed with a protective curiosity the moment that he entered Hermione's space again. The brunette's emotions had been up and down all day about everything and then an intense vengeful anger about her ring all the way up to the end of the ceremony after which Hermione tugged her aside and babbled incoherent, panicked words at what just happened. Ginny was all set to be her friend's backup for whatever lesson needed to be taught to the idiot Malfoy, but at the brunette's own description of the surprise burst of passion she and the whole assembly saw, she'd become a bit conflicted.

Ginny didn't wholly trust Malfoy, though on occasion – most recent occasion, in fact – he'd made several good points and provided less than selfish insights about her best friend. She had no illusions about the man being completely clean and free of his acts of manipulation and self serving plots, but more and more frequently over the past several days, the blonde had come through to act in ways that didn't really fit into the boxes she'd categorized him in before.

The fact of the matter was, Hermione was stuck with him now for the rest of her life and in some way or another would have to deal with him. While Ginny had never seen someone able to control the witch's emotions – positively or negatively – with as much ease as Draco, the man had made some very significant efforts to keep them on the up and up as much as possible as of late. That, coupled with the way the brunette was so flustered over how he'd kissed her, not to mention some other interesting encounters Hermione neglected to make her aware of sooner, Ginny suspected that there was more to this arrangement than any of them would've thought there to be at first.

The redhead sighed, thinking about her stubborn friend. She only wanted the best for her, whatever that would be. Ginny didn't trust Draco further than she could throw him, but she also hadn't seen the woman smile this much in quite some time, even with the bouts of less than happy moments she witnessed since this law came to light. She would do whatever it took to get Hermione back up and running and smiling again, even if it meant helping her see through whatever this was that was happening between the two most stubborn individuals she'd come to know.

Ginny heard a soft clearing of a throat to her side, drawing her attention. When she saw the one and only Blaise Zabini still leaning casually in the shade, nursing his champagne and looking at her with a charming smile, she rolled her eyes. "What are you looking at, Zabini?"

"Afternoon, pet." He purred sweetly, "Just admiring the view up close. Not every day you get to behold the softer side of the famous Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies up close and personal."

The redhead snorted and started back to the rest of the group, "Tosser. How about you go admire your _wife_?"

Blaise chuckled and did do a quick search of the grounds to find the familiar bright colors of her sundress and was not at all surprised to see her seated near one of the butterfly cages, legs drawn up beneath her with several of the insects dozing comfortably in the woman's hair or on her dress. He strolled dutifully to join her on her patch of grass, grinning softly all the while at the charming quirkiness of his witch.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** Again, going back again and trying to spot the editing mistakes I missed. Wanted to get something up for you folks after being very lovely and patient. Give me a day or so before writing a PM or a review (PMs preferred) with corrections. Also..there is a lot of M-rated content in here, please be advised! Though..if you're hoping for smut, I'm not sure if the content herein is actually going to be what you're looking for. :)

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_**_,.-'~'-.,_,.-'~'-.,_**_

_**Knowing You**_

_**-.,_,.-'~'-.,_,.-****-**_

"So, the great Malfoy reappears," Hermione did her best to be casually mocking about him joining her, but her heart seemed to have other ideas. Its normally steady beat stuttered when she'd seen him coming and subsequently sped up in direct proportion to how close he was to her.

Draco's shoulders rose and fell in an elegant shrug, "I thought to keep things a bit more...comfortable for you." At the growing red to her cheeks, Draco's eyebrow quirked along with the corner of his mouth and he motioned to the Weasley's at her back, "With your friends."

Hermione's flush deepened, realizing she'd actually stopped speaking mid-sentence to her guests. "Oh! I'm sorry, George, Angelina, you of course remember Malfoy." She turned back to the blonde wizard who was still quirking that infuriating smirk at her, "Malfoy this is-"

"Weasley and Weasley?" He grinned at the look Hermione shot him. Draco was mildly surprised when the tall redheaded man extended his hand to him for a proper shake and offered him a 'congratulations' that wasn't infused with obvious venom. His wife was next, offering him her hand and he was much more surprised at the strength and grip behind hers, so used to the lackluster limp noodle of a grip most women would offer if even bothering to shake a hand at all. His brow furrowed and head tilted as she finally clicked in his memory, "Johnson?"

The dark-haired woman's mouth lifted at the corners, "You were right the first time." She took her hand back and showed him the band on her finger, "But yes, it's me. It's been a while, hasn't it? I think the last time I remember seeing you was on the pitch the year Pucey nailed you with a bludger."

Hermione's eyes went round, darting from the woman to Draco. She'd completely forgotten that he would probably remember the two Weasley's very well from his time in school, though their Quidditch rivalries had a much different dynamic than his and her own battles in academics.

Draco snorted, scratching at a spot on his temple, gracefully deflecting the conversation and earning him a surprised look from his wife at the passive move. "Your lot does seem to like bringing that game up quite a bit, don't they?"

"Only because it was utterly satisfying," George said plainly with a grin on his face. "Any truth to the motivations behind it?"

"George!" Angelina elbowed him in the side, sending him a stern look and glancing at Hermione then back to Draco, "Don't pay him any mind. You don't have to answer that." She indicated her head to his new wife very slightly and spoke again in a lower breath, "You shouldn't answer that."

Draco blinked at her then at Hermione, seeing her looking at him questioningly. He remembered when Hermione asked him the same question in less delicate words and evidently she did as well. Her brown eyes were guarded, tensed just around the edges, as though she were anticipating an unpleasant answer to the question if he decided to answer it at all this time. A smooth and evasive half truth was dancing on the edge of his tongue out of habit, just trying to keep up appearances and whatall, though the longer he allowed himself to meet her stare, the less inclined he was to preserve such implications. He sighed inwardly, not even married for a day and this witch was already mucking things all up.

"Not a hair, Weasley," Draco shrugged, "Sorry to disappoint. I'm not quite as evil a chap as shagging another bloke's witch. He was just brassed off because she complained about his apparent pitiful bedroom performance and had a bout of wishful thinking, yelling about how he should be a better lover like me. She was, of course, just going off of rumors about my prowess."

"And were _those_ true?" The question slipped from Angelina's mouth before she could stop it, her husband giving her a surprised look. She looked a little sheepish but didn't take it back, face alight with curiosity.

Draco grinned, positively purring his response, "Oh yes, every inch of those were true."

George and Angelina laughed raucously.

Hermione scrunched her nose at the distasteful 'locker room' humour and was so very thankfully saved by the bell – sort of.

A loud hum sprang to life, buzzing loudly over the chatter of the small crowd of attendees. The din of conversation died down, all eyes turning to Harry Potter who was fiddling with a microphone and cable awkwardly. There were a few more seconds of the noise before it clipped short and was soon after replaced with Harry's voice.

"Ah, hello everyone. On Hermione and Malf—uh Draco's behalf, I'd like to thank you all for coming on such short notice. Hermione also asked that I give a special thank you to Mrs. Malfoy—oh, that is to say, _Narcissa_...since y'know, two Mrs. Malfoys now," Harry paused, grimacing. He hated any kind of public speaking, he'd never quite gotten the hang of that. Hermione was so much better at this. He cleared his throat and started again, "Anyway, please give _Narcissa_ Malfoy a big thanks to getting this all set up."

There was an obligatory round of applause, the elder Mrs. Malfoy blushing prettily from where she stood near a refreshments table at her husband's side. To his credit, he wasn't quite scowling – actually he'd managed to maintain that look of 'not-quite-scowling' throughout the whole ceremony. Narcissa gave a little wave to the crowd and shook her head, politely urging the attention away from her once again, even though she was quietly eating it all up.

In the midst of the display, she actually caught sight of Hermione who was smiling very slightly at her, shy and unsure, but even at this distance she could understand the sincerity behind it. Narcissa gave her a gentle, reassuring nod, seeing the tension bleed out of her. A succinct noise to her left drew her attention. The woman patted her husband's arm and pointedly ignored the disapproving look he'd shot her at interacting with the girl, "She is a Malfoy now Lucius. Really, you'd best get used to it."

"I'll do no such thing," he scoffed and sneered. "Law or not, it's still a travesty. I may not have been able to stop it, but it doesn't mean I will encourage this behavior."

If she were anyone but a most esteemed Malfoy, she would've rolled her eyes. Instead she just nodded dutifully, patting him again. "Of course dear." She brightened and pointed at the dance floor, "Now hush!"

Harry smiled crookedly at the crowd. "Now, I was politely asked not to give a speech by both our bride _and _groom," he shrugged and grinned at the chuckles. "It's just as well, I'm rubbish at these things. Instead of listening to me prattle on then, we'll get down to business. Please welcome your new couple to the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife."

Harry looked behind him and waved a hand at Neville. At the man's lack of response the first time, he hissed out his name until he caught his attention again and Neville gave a sheepish grin but scurried over to the stereo to hit the play button on the disc changer.

The soft tinkling lilt of piano keys came from the strategically placed speakers and Hermione immediately recognized the song. This...THIS is the one they picked for their first dance? Her embarrassment flooded her senses. This was one of her favorite musical artists, Harry was very much aware of that, though he had no interest in the artist so he wasn't familiar with the songs. How he had come to pick this one when she gave him very specific instructions on how to pick something suitable for her and Draco's situation, she had no clue. Her blush only seemed to worsen when she caught Draco looking at her, suppressing the grin that was threatening to split his face.

_I've been alone with you  
Inside my mind  
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips  
A thousand times  
_

"Well...something you're trying to tell me, love?"

Hermione was beet red as Draco led her out onto the dance floor. He took one of her hands and guided the other to hook around his neck, falling into a simple slow step. She blinked up at him with wide, horrified eyes as the lyrics and smooth jazzy notes of the song filled the air to set a most mortifying, romantic scene.

"I'll kill them."

_I sometimes see you  
Pass outside my door  
Hello!  
Is it me you're looking for?  
_

Draco was chuckling, guiding her in practiced steps with ease and one of his hands resting comfortably at the dip of her waist. He peered down at her, her own gaze looking absolutely anywhere but his face though he could tell her cheeks were still a bright, rosy red.

"Very...interesting choice of music. Not quite as good as our music, but it's palatable."

Hermione huffed at that. The song may have been a poor choice, but it _was_ still one of her favorite Muggle artists. "I'll have you know he's very accomplished. Popular all over the world!"

She turned her glare upwards, falling short when she met his gray orbs. They had taken that darker shade again, shimmering silver whenever the light caught them. She'd seen that stare more often recently. Hermione recalled the last time very vividly, being right before he'd leaned in to kiss her...right after he'd given her the ring with that awful inscription.

She huffed again, remembering her irritation with him from earlier and holding onto it for dear life – that emotion was _safe_. "You're a prat, you know that?"

_I can see it in your eyes  
I can see it in your smile  
You're all I've ever wanted  
And my arms are open wide  
_

Draco's gaze lightened and he gave her an incredulous look right before he led her in a small spin along with a crescendo in the music. When she was back in his arms, stepping with him again, he looked at her expectantly. "Oh? What have I done this time?"

"What have you done?!" Hermione's lips set into a thin line, her glare locked onto his face. "Have you already forgotten that hideous motto you had emblazoned onto my wedding band?"

The blonde had the decency to look somewhat ashamed, "Ah. That."

"_Yes_. THAT."

"Look, I forgot about it until today, okay?"

She looked more put out by that statement.

"So am I to be _more_ or _less _offended that you did it in the first place versus the fact that it was trivial enough for you to forget about until it was staring you in your git face?" Hermione turned her face away from him, nose in the air, the both of them just moving automatically to the rhythm of the music and not speaking for several moments.

_'cause you know just what to say  
And you know just what to do  
And I want to tell you so much  
I love you  
_  
Draco cleared his throat awkwardly, fully expecting the heat of her anger on him again, but still getting used to being so distracted by the different shades and depths of her stare. If he were to draw any conclusions from his past experiences, the higher her emotions were running, the more of those golden flecks seemed to surface. Sometimes he found himself wondering if it was an outlet of her magic, most times he just pondered what he could say or do to get more of them to appear, wholly fascinated by their existence in the first place.

"We can have it changed later," he offered lamely, watching her temper cool ever so slightly right before his eyes.

"Good." She snapped, turning her head, then a moment later, "Fine. Thank you." Hermione mulled over the next words bitterly but felt compelled to say them in any case, "We can have yours changed back then as well...if you prefer."

He'd almost forgotten about the change to his own ring until then, his mind preoccupied with a myriad of other thoughts.

"About that-" Draco paused until she made to look at him again.

"What of it?"

"How did you know yours would be the same? It could've been anything else."

"_Please,_" she snorted, "I know you too well, Malfoy. It could have been nothing else."

The comment struck him.

It hit him harder than he'd expected actually.

_I long to see the sunlight in your hair  
And tell you time and time again  
How much I care  
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow_

She was right, she did know him extremely well as a side effect of growing up and working together for as long as they have. It wasn't that part that got to him, though. It was more the fact that she'd expected the absolute worst from him as her initial, knee jerk reaction: to be a conniving, distasteful prick when it came to something as meaningful and important to her as this.

And he hadn't been one to disappoint.

That thought brought a frown to his features. Maybe he wasn't trying as hard to succeed in this reformed world as he originally felt he was.

He bought her a beautiful dress.

He paid for as extravagant of a wedding as she'd desired.

He even let her invite ALL of the Weasels, even if not all of them could attend.

Even with all of that taken into consideration, he still let one of the more important items of discussion – it was on the bloody contract, for crying out loud – fall through the cracks because he wanted to be clever and spiteful.

_'Good job, mate. You arse.'_

_Hello!  
I've just got to let you know  
'cause I wonder where you are  
And I wonder what you do  
_

Draco thought of the new inscription on his ring and its meaning. _Virtue can only flourish among__st__ equals._

_Are you somewhere feeling lonely?  
Or is someone loving you?  
Tell me how to win your heart  
For I haven't got a clue  
But let me start by saying I love you  
_

Perhaps she had something with the thought of breaking certain traditions...

"How did you do it?"

"What?" Hermione looked up at him, eyes tired and unfocused, her thoughts obviously having been everywhere but with him.

"The last I left you, you were undergoing what I recall Red stating to be 'an extremely long fucking process, so leave us alone, Ferret'." The small upwards pull to her mouth made the lead weight in his gut lighten. "So how were you able to get it changed and back in time for the ceremony?"

Hermione brightened at the question. For as much as she tried to resist and stay angry, she had a particular weakness for explaining her cleverness. "After Luna brought it – after I was done gnashing my teeth and contemplating how bad the legal processions would be if I stomped downstairs to kill my husband-to-be on our wedding day – I sent Ginny to a friend of mine."

"You know a jeweler?"

She scoffed at Draco's incredulous look. "Of course I do. I'm bloody famous!" He chuckled at the sly look she gave him. "Actually, it's from working with all this cursed jewelry that's been popping up over the past several months. Oliver has helped me immensely with understanding the finer points of construction on the pieces that I am investigating and ultimately have to dissect. It's made it leaps and bounds easier to find out where to look on new items that the Aurors bring me for signs or signatures of the caster to try and identify the culprit." Hermione frowned, thinking about her work. "Unfortunately, I still haven't been able to make any headway on that. He or she is either very clever or just very eccentric you see. There's no set pattern to _where_ he's been anchoring the spells even thought they're obviously the same person-"

"Granger, we're not at work. I don't need the dissertation."

Hermione blinked up him and blushed, "Sorry. Anyway...yes. I know a jeweler through work. Thankfully, he's a friend and is also quite interested in money."

That was interesting. "Just how much did you have to pay him to get him to do this work on such short notice with such a stringent deadline like that?"

She averted her gaze again.

Draco frowned. He wasn't sure what was worse, knowing that he dropped the ball at _not_ being a git or knowing that his reluctant wife had to fit the bill for it. He repositioned her arms so both of them were draped loosely over his shoulders, tucking another strand of hair behind her ear with his newly freed hand before settling them both atop the swell of her hips now. "I'll reimburse you for whatever you had to pay him."

Hermione's mouth fell open in a small "O" shape, not expecting that offer at all, though she recovered soon enough. She shook her head, "I wouldn't worry about it. It's not as though I'm completely poor." She smirked, "Especially now, eh?"

The joke caught him unawares, his confused look making her smirk grow. Draco laughed, "Yes, I suppose _especially_ not now."

_Hello!  
Is it me you're looking for?  
'cause I wonder where you are  
And I wonder what you do  
_

The music continued through its dramatics, the sweet sounds of the ballad rising and falling smoothly. Draco let the silence fall between them, this one much less tense than any of the earlier ones. In its presence, he took the time to examine his bride once again.

More and more of Hermione's hair was escaping its bonds as the minutes went on, unable to be tamed with the same fiery spirit as its owner. The butterflies that hid her hairpin before had long since woken up and found more comfortable places to rest than in her hair. It couldn't have been more than two hours since the end of their ceremony, if that, and he could already see the sparse makeup fading or smudging from a light sheen of sweat from her being out under the afternoon sun.

There were a few more opportunities in the score for Draco to twirl her delicately and he took each of them. Hermione's feet glided across the dance floor perfectly, always perfectly, each time she came back into the circle of his arms her grin was a little broader. He shared his own half smile with her.

_Are you somewhere feeling lonely?  
Or is someone loving you?  
Tell me how to win your heart  
For I haven't got a clue  
But let me start by saying I love you _

With every gliding step, every swish of her skirts swirling around her legs, every flare of color set off by the gemstones on her gown, every new burst of gold popping to life when she came close enough for him to see...he just couldn't shake that word that kept coming to mind.

Perfect.

The music faded and they stopped their slow travel across the dance floor. The onlookers gave them a short round of applause and then other couples started to crowd the floor, Neville rushing to the stereo system to push a few buttons and get a lighter soundtrack going for the rest of them.

Hermione's hands were clasped loosely behind Draco's neck. She smiled up at him, despite all the potential issues that cropped up throughout the day, she was surprisingly pleased with how everything turned out. There was still the evening to go, but she was trying very hard to keep herself from worrying about it just yet. Instead, she attempted to enjoy what she could before having to face that part of it all. Though gazing at his face, taking in the easy way his mouth tilted for her, like they were the only ones even there, she felt her anxiety over the coming night fading.

"Thank you...for everything you did to make this happen. Even if you were a git at the beginning...and through at least half of it."

Draco chuckled and stroked a thumb across her cheekbone before he gave her a playful knock on the chin, "I've got you, Granger, no thanks needed."

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-..-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

Like many other days preparing herself for her day, Hermione stood in the bathroom, having a good look at herself before venturing out into the bedroom.

Only today, it wasn't like every other morning. In fact, it wasn't a morning at all.

Today, was the evening of her wedding night.

The guests were all gone, the last having left a couple of hours ago. The subsequent time between them spent very awkwardly now that they had no one else to distract them from their next duty and the shift in things that occurred between them earlier that very day. They'd munched on remaining food from the reception for as long as they could stand before she, of all people, suggested that they 'go on and get it over with'.

She wasn't excited. Oh no, she was quite terrified actually. This was a day she'd been saving herself for, for as long as she could remember. The virtues and values instilled in her by her parents didn't stick with her in all things, but they had in this one at the very least. Hermione had almost faltered before to Ron's clumsy ministrations, but her virtue had prevailed, though in the end, their relationship had not.

It wasn't that he'd been an abrasive and cruel man about the subject, but his flippancy and stance on it was always one of tension between them and eventually became the final straw. It wasn't even that he saw so little or didn't understand the value she put on such a thing, it was that he saw so little and didn't understand the value that she put on _**most**_ things; and they **all** became points of tension.

Hermione's squabbles and differences with Ron when they were just friends tended to be much more endearing before they started actually seeing each other. Endearing became exhausting very quickly – for the both of them. While Ron just wanted to bask in his post-war glory for a bit, Hermione tried to impress upon him the importance of returning to school to complete his formal education so he could continue functioning beyond the span of the war. Neither of them could come to an agreement or compromise on practically anything and they both probably enjoyed her year away at Hogwarts a little too much.

Still staring at herself in the mirror, she sighed, running her hands over her arms. It always felt like her scars were so much more noticeable when she was so bare. Her fingertips traced down the outside of her bicep, feeling every little bump or mound of naturally or magically mended flesh. She ran the pad of a thumb across the underside of her left forearm nervously.

The Healers had done wonders for this one, you could barely even see it anymore, barely tell that there was once a very angry, savage word branded into her flesh with a blade most foul and wicked, so similar to its owner. You really could only tell it was ever there if you were actively looking for it and searching. Hermione knew this, but sometimes it felt so huge and grotesque that she had to touch it to be sure that the scars were still thin and subtle, especially when all eyes were on her.

As she stood there in the most daring piece of lingerie Ginny could talk her into purchasing, running her hands over and over the mars to her flesh, Hermione sighed heavily. She was not like the pictures of perfection and elegance that still chased Draco around despite his reputation. She wasn't a dainty Pureblooded witch or even someone that could be mistaken for a noble upbringing. She was just Hermione, scarred, battered, and wrung through the reality of the world outside of pretty walls, tea parties, and socials. She was just Hermione, a product of the war.

"_Granger."_

The rap at the door startled her and she knocked her wand off the counter. Hermione sputtered lamely, fanning the blush away from her face as much as she could, "J-just a moment. Please, just a moment."

Bending to retrieve the wood, Hermione took a deep inhale of breath, allowing it to stretch as far into her limbs as it would go before blowing it out again. She felt only slightly more steadied. Another breath and a mumble and wave of her wand over her abdomen and she forced herself to be ready. Setting her wand back onto the counter, Hermione steeled her shoulders and made for the bathroom door.

Draco was perched on the edge of their bed, still clothed in his slacks and dress shirt from the ceremony, though his sleeves were rolled and the collar of his shirt unbuttoned. He'd been sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, straightening at the sound of the doorknob turning, reflexively moving to roll his sleeves back into place at her presence. His actions stuttered when he caught sight of her shy figure emerging from their shared bathroom suite.

First her head peeked around the edge of the door, curls long since freed of the complicated pinning and just falling down her back and shoulders heavily in loose, lightly bouncing spirals. Hermione's eyes found him quickly and just as swiftly they diverted to the side, a deep red flush surfacing over her nose and cheeks where he knew she had a fine peppering of freckles.

He saw her fingers curl around the door, pulling it aside, and a long line of barefooted leg came into view, then the other. Supple thighs disappeared beneath the lace rimmed edge of a satiny slip that he thought may actually have been longer than the robe he'd caught her in the other week; though the tiny slit at its side gave a very small glimpse of the crease at the back of her leg where her exquisitely rounded rear made the transition into leg – the robe from before created no such pleasures. The slip flowed like liquid over her figure, the swell of her breasts encased in each satin and lace covered triangle creating a wonderful set of ripples throughout it with each of her shaky breaths. Hermione's hands came to the hem of the slip self-consciously tugging at it as though she were going to make it cover more of her. Of course, this only served to tug the neckline lower and give Draco an excellent view of the round tops of her breasts.

Draco swallowed, resisting whetting his lips at the sight of her. The demure picture of her there, pulling at her hem and toeing the carpet with a deep red flush painting what he could see of her breasts, her neck, and her face made his mind go blank for the longest of seconds. Before she'd emerged from the bathroom, he was going over options and plans for ways to make this as easy for her – for the both of them – as possible, but as soon as she appeared much of his blood flow redirected itself in favor for supplying his other head.

"Granger," her name came out more gruffly than intended. He almost stood to meet her, but thought better of it, "You look—uh..that is to say, you, you look good."

Hermione took his stammering another way, her shoulders hunched up around herself, one arm crossing over her stomach to rub at the other. "Yes well...thank you," she focused her eyes off to a spot somewhere near his feet, frowning a bit when she realized how much less clothing she was wearing than he. "I suppose we should..you know...get to it."

Draco anticipated her shyness and reluctance, it was to be expected being her first time and all. He did not, however, expect just how sweaty his own palms would be at seeing her there. She looked utterly exposed and must've felt it with the way she still barely lifted her eyes and moved scarcely but a few steps into the room. While the humor with the Weasleys at the dance floor was somewhat crass, the statement wasn't untrue. Draco had always taken the time to make the most out of the encounters with the women he actually chose to bed and seeing her so uncomfortable set his older instincts into a whirl. If he just imagined her as another one of those women, he'd be fine. Just here to get the task done. That's what he told himself, anyhow.

He did stand up then, finding his resolve and swagger in a compartment in his mind that he'd tucked away after leaving school the second time. Draco began unbuttoning his shirt, unclasping each button methodically when he heard Hermione's surprised yelp from the doorway. He blinked, her eyes finally zeroed in on him again, huge and trembling, her face several shades darker and she fidgeted, appearing to be looking for something to do with her hands.

Draco lifted an eyebrow and tugged at his still half buttoned shirt, "Would you rather...?"

Hermione's head shook so violently it made her dizzy. She blurted so many words before she could form them into a coherent sentence. "No! I mean...I don't. But, what I meant to say, really, is-"

She shook her head again, scrubbing at her face after she bit her tongue stumbling over her words. Taking a steadying breath, Hermione reopened her eyes to find Draco had moved and was quite a bit closer now. She gasped at having him within arm's length and swallowed, meeting his serious stare. She expected it to be filled with laughter and mockery, teasing the prudish blushing virgin, but all she saw there was a steady patience...and if she understood anything about the way he'd looked at her before snogging her senseless at the altar, a little bit of _something else_.

The witch frowned, lower lip trembling from nerves, "I don't know if I can do this, Malfoy."

Draco nodded and offered her a smirk. "I know," he said softly. "I'd like to say you didn't have to," he shrugged, "But we both know the truth of it."

Hermione sighed, fiddling with her hands and picking at her nails, gaze shifting off to the side again. "Yes. You're right. It's...an unfortunate situation we're in, but you're right. We're both adults here. We can do this..._I_ can do this."

Draco listened to her anxious babbling and vocalized rationalizations, moving around near her bubble of space but not yet breaching it. The movement made her head snap back up and he watched her watching _him_ as he took a seat on the edge of the nearby bureau. After a moment of studying her, he cleared his throat and spoke up again, "I have a proposition for you."

She looked at him incredulously at his wording, making him grin. "_Really?"_

Chuckling, Draco shook his head, "Now hear me out." The blonde waited until he was sure she was giving him her absolute, utmost attention before continuing. "Tonight, this room," he waved about them both, indicating their bedroom, "Whatever happens here, whatever is said here, anything, everything, stays here."

Hermione scoffed, "Well I should think that would be _obvious-_"

"No," he said, stern though not rude, "I mean it. Anything I say to you or you say to me, whatever we do. Nobody hears of it. I don't mention it to you, even just between us, and you don't bring it up to me. No chatting to your girlfriends about how much of a bang up job I did-"

She snorted but smirked, "Or you to Blaise-"

"-or me to Blaise," he conceded, pleased to see some of her anxiety fade. He hesitated, the next words heavy in his mouth, but he presented them admirably, "You can...forget about it if you'd like, after tonight. I won't be offended."

Hermione heard the shift in his tone. It was so very barely there, but she still noticed it. To look at him, though, you'd never be able to place the change in his mannerism at all. She narrowed her eyes, trying to determine what he was hiding from her behind that carefully spoken offer. "Forget about what we're about to do here?" The question was skeptical – a question within a question.

The man flashed her a brilliant smile. "Unless you'd rather not," he joked, though it was missing confidence.

Hermione let her eyes run over him, having a look at his mostly relaxed posture against their dresser. He still had his slacks on though his shirt was untucked and only half buttoned, providing her a teasing view of a toned and almost hairless chest. His legs were crossed at the ankle and he supported himself with a hand bracing him on either of his sides, but beyond the tension in his shoulders at the mild effort of propping himself upright, there was another tension there and it bled into the corners of his eyes and crooked smirk.

Glancing to her hands once more, drawing strength from her very last reserves, Hermione nodded. "Everything that happens here tonight, stays here."

She couldn't see his flinch at the agreement, but he covered for it anyway by making a dramatic movement of standing back up. "Good. Then that should be a bit easier..for you, of course."

Hermione nodded, "Right. So. Perhaps we should...we should start by getting to know each other a bit better before we...get right into it?" She began fiddling again with her slip, tugging at the lace edging here and there as though trying to make it longer, "I know we know a bit – well...quite a lot, actually – but –HEY! M-Malfoy! Put me down!"

He listened to her begin for all of three or four seconds, but was almost immediately distracted by the way she kept tugging at that infernal nightie. While suggesting that this night be a black spot on both of their memories and having her accept was a blow to his ego, it did offer him the chance for a relatively consequence free evening – at least that's how he was going to look at it. Putting it back into that perspective and pretending that this was one of the flings that he'd never have to see again after the deed was done was bringing his resolve back with much haste.

With a restored burst of confidence, Draco hoisted the witch up over his shoulder, carrying her in a few solid strides to their bed. "Sorry love, but talking away the night while my wife is standing there in just her knickers is something even a gentleman such as I cannot allow to happen." He plopped her down in the middle of the mattress and lorded over her with a soft smile and his hands at his hips.

At first, Hermione looked at him with her standard fiery glare at being so manhandled, but him standing there in a classic superhero pose made her crack a grin as well. "I'm wearing _more_ than just my knickers, Malfoy," she remarked saucily and found she was emboldened by his casual way.

Draco shrugged, finishing the unbuttoning of his shirt to slough it off and toss it somewhere behind him. Hermione's eyes didn't follow its path and were instead trailing over his freshly revealed torso, following the pale line of hairs down his center, and lingering on the sharp angles of his hipbones peeking over the edge of his slacks. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and Draco realized that she'd reapplied her gloss from earlier. Just like that, he was moving; slow and steady, but very focused on her half curled form that was sitting and tracking him from the center of their bed. "Yes well, I suppose we will remedy that soon enough."

Hermione gulped, feeling the bed dip with his weight. She felt herself repositioning automatically, scooting further back into the pillows and more onto her back, elbows helping to prop her up as he crawled to her. The fluid movement of his muscles beneath his skin were perhaps one of the most gorgeous sights she'd yet to see in a man's physique up close.

Ron's build, just like the rest of his mannerisms, was brutish and clumsy. His muscles were bulky and broad, not so much toned, but simply built and honed over the years for and from function alone. Not Draco. He was sleek and lithe, every bit of him stretched long and lean, precisely cut for purpose just as much for show – also like its owner. Two very different worlds which were both good in their own right; though with the way the blonde's eyes had latched onto hers, shining with that dark glint that she could now most assuredly name as arousal, she questioned which she preferred.

She edged further into the lush pillows at her back and saw the wizard's nostrils flare and his lip curl ever so slightly like she was prey trying to flee. He closed the short distance between them more quickly then and finding the air to speak was extremely difficult with his head hovering above hers, stare focused on her softly panting mouth. "Y-your trousers. You've still got them on."

Draco arched a brow and teased her with a smirk, "Eager?"

Hermione flushed and turned her head, smacking his bare chest with the back of one hand. She was startled at how solid it was and came away rubbing at her skin. She huffed and tilted the rest of her body from him angrily, embarrassed. "Well of course I'm no expert, but last I understood when one is about to-to...to _shag_, it generally requires certain..erm..parts...to be free."

The wizard was doing his best to contain his chuckles at her snarky reply, lest she think he was making fun of her. On the contrary, he was quite enjoying this – and they weren't even naked yet. The fact that she hadn't bolted from the room or lit into him from carrying her was something he could consider a win, thus far. Draco took advantage of her position and stretched himself out behind her, feeling her stiffen immediately. Carefully, gently, he laid a hand on her cloth covered hip and rested his head on the palm of the other. "Good to know you're up to date on the reading-"

"Oh shut it-"

Draco nuzzled his nose into her hair, breathing in the mixture of airy scents that always seemed to surround her, fingers tensing on her hipbone. "No, no. I'm serious, these things are very important, you know. Tell me, what else have you read about it?"

"_Malfoy-" _Hermione warned firmly, but the rest of the thought pittered off in a sigh, chased away by the warm presses of his lips on her neck.

"We'll take it very slow," He murmured into her flesh, very close to her ear while his hand rubbed soothing circles along the side of her thigh.

Draco felt her nod, was nearly caught in the tangle of her curls from the movement, even, and continued kissing along the curve of exposed skin. He listened and watched for any reaction. When his lips passed over a dip at the crook of her neck and shoulder and Hermione gave a shiver, the blonde ran his tongue across it and was rewarded with a surprised gasp. He licked and gave it a little suckle a few more times, causing the woman to fidget and loose several more of those faint sighs of pleasure. When a particularly good nibble made her jerk back against his hips, he growled into her skin, hand clamping down over it to still her wiggling – though not before he had himself a bit of a grind to feel the supple curves of her cheeks on either side of his length through his trousers. The sensation made his eyes roll back and pulled a groan from his throat.

"_Careful_, love_,_" Draco rumbled into her ear, soothing his hand over her leg again to show she'd done nothing wrong, "Slowly...when you do that you make it difficult for me.."

Hermione blushed at the indirect compliment, "Sorry. I just...I haven't...I've not really done much of this before. Not...not to this point." It killed her to admit it and she did so very hesitantly. Although if they were never to speak of this again, it couldn't hurt to say, now could it?

_'So she HAD done something before? Just not sex..._ _ Interesting_.' Draco pulled away slightly, just enough to see her profile, "Might I ask what point you _have_ gotten to?"

She shrugged, the color in her cheeks deepening even more.

Draco sighed inwardly. She was so different from other women he'd dealt with. Normally, if they'd gotten to this stage, he would find himself getting palmed and groped and very nearly attacked by the woman just so she could get her claws in him and _him_ in _her_. Hermione, of course, was nothing like that. It was funny if he thought about it, so opinionated and bossy every other minute of every day, but now she could barely articulate her thoughts without stuttering and stammering.

He shook his head and nudged her to look at him. She did so, but extremely reluctantly. "Why don't you show me?"

Hermione's eyes grew huge, "Show you?"

Draco nodded and laid back down with her, her back pressed to his chest and the both of them on their right sides. His right arm scooped underneath her in the space between her waist and the bed, securing her to him. He kept a small bit of distance between their hips, but other than that he had her nestled flush against him. She was scared, she was so nervous it was almost painful to witness, especially coming from Hermione – his know-it-all bitch of a witch. She was used to being in control, and frankly, she was typically very good at it when given such a position to be in.

Time to drop her back into her comfort zone.

"Show me where you've gotten to," Draco stroked his fingers in patterns over her stomach, delighting in the twitch of her muscles at the tickle. He swallowed, doing his best to keep his mind on his illusion and not let it start wandering enough to put her name and face together in his head. Closing his own eyes so that all he could feel was her petite frame resting snugly within the circle of his arms and smell her delicate fragrance, he murmured softly against the shell of her ear. "Show me what you like...what you want me to do. We'll worry about the rest after-when you're ready."

Hermione shuddered. Draco's hot breath tickled her cheek and neck and sent jolts of electricity down to her toes. Ron tried to speak sensually to her before and all that ended up happening was collecting spittle in her ear canal. Just like everything with the man thus far, Draco's technique was so much smoother, more elegant, more refined. The low sound of his words was more like the purr of a wildcat, vibrating along her skin and dancing its way down her spine, dangerous but alluring all the same.

She let out a steadying breath. She could just forget this all after tonight. She could take Ginny's advice and imagine he was anyone but Malfoy, anyone else, someone safer...less complex. Hermione shut her eyes, hearing his even breathing and feeling it when it would wash over her cheek. She could feel the thudding of his heart at her back and the heat of his limbs tangling with hers. With her sight removed from it all, she could just concentrate on the sensations and the safe cradle of his arms.

No consequences.

With a trembling hand she felt around for the one that was still resting and rubbing over her thigh. She snaked her fingers between his own, the metal of their bands bumping together with a soft _tink_. Hermione stilled her shaking as much as she could and guided his palm from its spot on her leg up the length of her body. His fingers splayed over the satin of the slip, pressing smoothly over the flat plane of her stomach, the shallow ridges over her ribcage, and paused, linked with her own, when she reached the side of her breast.

"This," Hermione breathed, gently pressing his hand to curl around her breast. He hesitated for just a second but strengthened his grip some at her guidance; it was not bruising, but exploratory. Draco's fingers pressed into the soft flesh and cupped her, slipping down the front slope of it until his thumb brushed over the cloth covered nipple. Hermione bit her lip the first time to stifle a noise, chewing more firmly when he did it again, and then a third time.

Draco felt the hitch in her breath as well as her body respond to his touch. The way the little bundle pebbled beneath his hand made his own noise of appreciation catch in his throat, the arm curled beneath her tightening. He stifled the groan and nestled his nose into her hair just behind the curve of her ear. "It's alright Granger, you don't have to be quiet." As soon as her name was past his lips, he winced –_ just another girl, __n__ot Granger._ _Not_ Granger...but if it _were_ Granger, she felt bloody marvelous. "What else?"

Hermione loosed another breathy sigh at the way his thumb circled the perked nub, occasionally rolling it between his fingers in a caress, not at all like the meaty pawing she'd been accustomed to before; it was heavenly and send a dull ache pulsing through her with each careful pinch. The low vibration at her back spread goosebumps all along her skin and her hips shifted back towards his with the instinctive arch of her body searching for more. The movement rewarded her with another of his rumbling growls puffing across her ear and Hermione felt him, _all of him_, rubbing gently against her bum, the hardness making her gasp.

Draco was losing his head too quickly to the witch in his arms. His plan was great at first. Great until he felt the way she wriggled and writhed at the simplest of physical affections. Until he experienced how well she responded to his touch. Until he tasted the salt on her skin and found it almost as delicious as the flesh of her lips between his teeth. It was all just fine and dandy until he remembered how perfectly she molded to him at the altar with her hands carding through his hair and her moans spilling into his mouth.

He purred into her ear, moving his hand from her breast and taking hers, guiding her this time to press her palm over the bulge she was solely responsible for. Draco let his arousal seep into his speech, "All for you, love...look what you've done."

The witch bit at her lip but not soon enough to stop the soft moan at the way he ground lightly into her hand.

His throat bobbed, her moan like music to his ears. Draco buried his nose further into the bend of her neck, tugging at the sweet spot he found earlier, eliciting more and more of those sweet little sounds. Each one knocked his resolve further and further from his mind. He knew that sound. He knew who it belonged to. It wasn't just another girl in his bed tonight, it was Hermione _Malfoy, _his wife. A possessiveness sparked in him and he nibbled on the lobe of her ear, removing his hand from hers again, this time his fingers snuck beneath the hem of her slip but just stroked over her naked thigh.

"What else?" He asked again, his voice low and gravelly, control slipping the more comfortable she was becoming with vocalizing her pleasure. Draco's hand glided up, tracing over the edge of her knickers and he did well to control himself when he realized they were little more than a lacy little thing, a very _little_ thing. Blaise was right, _**thank Merlin**_, Blaise was right. "This?" He rasped between bites.

Hermione bit at her lip again, hips tilting into his touch. His fingers were tickling at her skin, sandwiched between pelvis and lace, making their slow trek from the sharp angle of her hip towards her navel, carefully, delicately – her pulse was hammering so loudly in her ears she could barely even make out his gruff questions. When he paused at the smooth skin below her belly button, she realized he was waiting for something and finally she nodded, falling over her words, "Y-yes..." Boldly, she removed her hand from his pants and gripped his wrist, nudging it ever so slightly lower. "..this."

He was doing well, he'd reigned in his breathing, was thinking with the head between his shoulders at the moment, and was trying his hardest to focus on her directions. Hermione guided him lower, he could still sense her shyness and some hesitation, but she pressed on in any case. If he were more of his prat self at the moment, he might tease her about mustering up her Gryffindor courage, but when he realized he was sliding his hand lower _beneath_ the edge of her knickers, all of the fucks he might have given flew right out the window.

Draco felt the smooth expanse of skin give way to a surprisingly soft patch of what felt to be neatly trimmed hairs. Somewhere in the back of his brain he pondered over the question of whether or not that was done for him, _that_ thought made the dangerous notion of _'mine'_ pop into the forefront of his thoughts. Her hand stopped short of guiding him to the spot he was particularly interested in. His nostrils flared and teeth ground together, his willpower rapidly dissolving, but he dare not move another inch without her permission. Draco swallowed audibly, taking several deep breaths before asking, "Here?"

Hermione could barely recognize the blonde's voice, thick with a growl that seemed lodged in his throat. It was better that way really, it helped her, helped remove herself from what she was doing and with who. Daringly, she found his other hand and guided it to her breast, encouraging his grip to slip under the fabric this time to fondle it. Before he had any other chance to speak, Hermione bit the edge of her lip between her teeth and grabbed his other wrist like before, shifting her hips up the same time she nudged him further south.

"Here," she said huskily, whimpering when his fingers flexed and brushed over her lips.

_'Bleedin' fucking Hell-'_

The sound that came from him was somewhere between a growl and a groan. The hand on her tit clenched and the fingers between her legs swept along the swollen flesh, down, down, down until they felt it. It was just a tiny bit of moisture at first, but when he curled his digits and dipped just barely between her folds and came away slicked up, he thanked a plethora of higher powers.

"Here," he repeated in barely intelligible words whispered in her ear.

Her nod was his permission and it's just as well because he was done with words. Resuming his massage of her breast like before, he rolled her nipple rhythmically between a thumb and forefinger. She squirmed into the touch, breathing picking up a notch on the firmer pinches and her hands clutching at the sheets under them. Draco curled his fingers, just dragging a smooth knuckle up and down her slit, coaxing her wetness up towards a different bundle of nerves he was aching to touch. The second he brushed over it, so light and barely there, her hips jerked and a surprised cry tore from her throat.

Draco purred in admiration, "So sensitive."

Hermione whimpered and nodded. "I haven't..I don't.."

"Shh," he kissed the edge of her jawline softly, burying his face against her neck.

He could feel the fluttering of her pulse, her heart was racing, chest rising and falling so shallowly, so quickly. He'd barely touched her but at this rate she'd have herself a bloody heart attack. For the second time that night, Draco removed his hand from her succulent breast and searched for hers. Slipping his right hand around to cup hers, he intertwined their fingers and shifted them to curve more comfortably near her head on the pillow they shared. He edged one of his legs between hers, spreading them some and he kissed her cheek tenderly.

"I've got you, Granger..."

Hermione didn't realize how much she was stressing until those four words whispered their way into her head.

The voice was husky and low, full of dark and pleasure filled promise, but it was still unmistakably Draco. Hearing it drove the tension from her shoulders, it made her death grip on him loosen, it made the muscles in her thighs relax and ease in his care. She knew him. She knew his ways. She was more than aware of the things he was capable of, the stunt with their rings still fresh in her mind, but even with that, she knew he didn't lie – not to her. When he murmured those reassuring words, she found a remarkable sense of comfort in that promise.

He'd gone back to kissing on her neck, his lips feathering over her pulse point, alternating between careful licks, kisses, and pulls of her flesh between his teeth. Hermione tilted her head, angling it further into the pillows to allow him more access. She said nothing but a sigh of pleasure when his teeth gripped the thin strap of her slip and eventually nosed it off her shoulder. His lips found more of her skin, dancing over her shoulder and back, burying his face in her hair but always coming back to the spot on her neck that she was sure he'd bit so much it would be purple in the morning. This fact and any point of caring she had about it breezed away with the way he rolled the muscle between his teeth, shooting bursts of pleasure to her core, making things clench with anticipation.

Draco's left hand was moving carefully, exploring the silkiness of her with a delicate touch she never would've imagined possible from someone so biting and antagonistic. Hermione sucked at her bottom lip, moaning with each languid stroke of his finger passing along her slit until it barely bumped her clit, only to dip back down to sample her wetness before repeating the move.

With each of her exhales of breath or whimpers, Draco's grip would tighten around their linked hands. She felt a fine tremble from the man at her back, like a taut string vibrating with energy with every single one of her moans and the effect she had on him aroused her to no end. Somehow, knowing that she had her childhood nemesis perched on a precipice, teetering at the edge with her sounds of pleasure nudging him further to fall filled her with a confidence and pride about her body she hadn't felt before.

Maybe it was that, maybe it was the offer of no consequences, no regrets, maybe it was something else entirely that prompted her next act. Whatever it was, it was clearly the straw that broke the camel's back.

Hermione released her death grip on the bedsheets and dragged her left hand down the length of Draco's bare arm, goosebumps sprouting in the wake of her carefully manicured nails. She splayed her hand out over his that continued its careful strokes against her, marveling at how much broader his palm was for just a second, before she began guiding him again. This time, her fingers draped over his, leading him down to her core and nudging the tip of one to dip so slightly in, tugging at the rim of her opening and slicking up the pad of it before moving it back to the swollen and aching bundle of nerves. Hermione used two of her fingers to one of his own, circling outside the bud, rarely touching it directly, pressing harder in some spots and less in others, showing him how to touch her.

Draco was always a quick study.

Once he realized what was happening, the blonde eagerly delved into his assignment. His kisses stopped except for an intermittent kiss and suckle here and there and instead, he shut his eyes more tightly against any distractions. His fingertips circled and swirled around her clit and he listened for her hitches and stutters in breath to find her best spots. Down on the left, she would moan, up and right, she gasped. Down, her hips pressed to his, up, they twitched forward. Down, her knees spread further apart, up, her toes curled against his shin.

Her pleasured mewls filled his ears, her shifts in breathing coming more frequently, more closer together and he made to steadily increase the circles of his fingers to keep up. Soon his own hips were mimicking her instinctual thrusts and he rolled his pelvis to grind his rock hard length against the firm cushion of her ass. Hermione cried out softly, a precursor to her oncoming orgasm and the jerking of her hips turned into a frantic and sudden grind into his hand. He felt her sweating palm leave his to continue pleasuring her and snake back to grasp at his head. It took her a few tries to reach him, but as soon as he felt her digits curl into his scalp he knew she was about to come. Keeping his increased pace, Draco narrowed the circles around her clit, coming closer and closer until the pads of his fingers swept over the exposed bud, intensifying the touch with one simple stroke. Hermione's nails bit into his skin and her hips bucked jerkily into his skilled massage.

Shudders flooded through her body, starting from the ends of her hair to the tip of her toes. The heat that Draco had ignited in her blood, from the moment he looked at her that morning, to the passion filled kiss they shared in the yard, all the way to the ecstasy he was bringing her now exploded all at once, overloading her system. Stars burst behind her eyelids and she arched off the bed, so lost in her toe curling bliss that the first thing on her mind came tumbling out of her mouth in a needy cry.

"_Draco!"_

The wizard felt the rush of moisture coat his other fingers, the twitches of the lean muscles of her belly, the clenching of her thighs around his one, but the only thing he heard past his own ragged breathing was the way his name sounded from Hermione, a loud, throaty call pulled from her in the height of passion. A snarl left him at some point between her coming halfway down from her climax and him extracting his limbs from hers to straddle her on his knees. Draco bent his head to capture her parted lips, swallowing her sweet gasps and pants, devouring her all for himself. He brushed some errant hairs from her face, cupping her cheeks while he kissed her deeply, sucking the lip she'd been worrying all night into his own mouth so he could have a turn. He stopped only when he felt the insistent tugging at his waist.

Draco released her lips, shifting so he could glance down and saw her small hands fumbling with the closure of his slacks. The blonde drew in a breath, the scent of her sweat and shampoo and musk clouding his nose and making his eyelids flutter with the shiver of need that racked his frame. He stilled her hands, halting her movements until she looked up at him. He'd expected her to shy away from their last act of intimacy, just as she had since they'd been left alone post-reception. Draco, for once, was delighted in being disappointed.

Hermione's chocolate eyes were bursting with gold, patterning her stunning gaze in brilliant color that only heightened her beauty; and with her cheeks still flushed pink, lips red, swollen, and taking in tiny gulps of air to resupply her lungs after their kiss, Draco couldn't deny that she was the epitome of beautiful.

He pressed his forehead to hers, catching his own breath, struggling to give her this one last out, "You're sure?"

Hermione nodded, her voice as steady as it'd been all night. "Now, Draco," she reached for his zip again, "I'm ready _now_."

He was never so happy to hear that bossy tone.

Draco released her wrists, opting to go back to tangling his fingers in her curls while he claimed her kisses once again. The witch made quick work of the remainder of his clothes, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of both slacks and boxers, shoving them down his hips with just enough care over his crotch. The faint thought that it seemed like she'd done that before flitted through his mind but just as quickly it was gone and he felt the cool air of their bedroom against the heated skin of his cock. The second her legs wrapped around his waist, that very ancient and primal part of him clicked back into place.

His hands were on her chest again and he growled into her mouth when he realized she still had clothes on. With great haste, Draco sat back on his haunches, tugging her with him far enough until they both worked to peel her slip and soaking wet knickers from her petite frame. Her dainty hands raked over his chest, the purr of contentment that vibrated free of her throat when her fingers scraped across the hard lines of his chest and dipped into the valleys of his abdomen were like the finest notes of music and all he could think of was to be closer, to wallow in that touch. Hermione fell back onto the mattress, dragging him with her, her hair splayed wildly all across their pillows and Draco took just a moment to see her in all her naked glory.

With her body completely bared to him, he could trace her blush from beginning to end. He saw that her freckles didn't reside just over her nose. He saw the full roundness of those perky breasts and found that they were just the perfect size. He found that her legs didn't _really_ go on forever, but they stopped at a place that, if his small taste so far was any indication, was pure heaven. He must have been staring, because the red in her cheeks was becoming more than just a flush of desire and her arms started to move to block her from his sight.

Draco caught her by the forearms, stiffly at first, but his grip loosened. He rubbed his hands up and down the length of them before guiding them to loop around his neck as he leaned back down. "Don't. You're fucking gorgeous, Granger. Don't hide it," he captured her lips again, murmuring between kisses while he positioned himself above her, "So bloody beautiful.."

Hermione moaned into his mouth, his kisses affording her no chance to respond – no chance to _think_ beyond his solid weight nudging between her legs. His hips rubbed gently against hers and she felt his cock slipping along the outside of her lips. He was so hot, it was as though his skin was on fire and she could feel every maddening bit of him. Draco reached between them, taking hold of his length and stroked it along her. Once he was coated in the slickness of her orgasm, he positioned his tip at her entrance.

Draco kissed her temple softly, brushing the hair he kept mussing up away again. "Please tell me you remembered the charm."

She nodded quickly, her legs coming up around him again, uncaring of the urgency in her tone, "Of course I did! Draco, please-"

He groaned, nodded, and pushed a little more firmly, parting her so slightly, "It might hurt, tell me—tell me if you need me to-"

"Draco, I need you-_now_!"

_'Fuck! This woman-'_

Without any more words he pushed, her wetness allowing him to slip the tip inside her before her muscles fluttered down around him, clenching and barring any further movement. Draco's breath caught, the marvelous sensation of her silky slick walls stealing away any coherent thoughts for several seconds before he regained his wits and pressed his forehead into her shoulder to steady himself. He grunted, a hand going to one of her hips and stroking down her thigh gently until she relaxed. When he deemed it safe to move again, he sunk further into her depths, inch by inch, listening to her hitched breaths and whimpers, pausing when she tensed and moving again when she would release until he was sheathed as far inside of her as he could be.

Hermione dug her fingers into his shoulders, eyes shut tight, wincing at the pinching pain in her core and the following ache. She'd read, and read, and read, but only so much would prepare her for the actual thing. To her surprise, it wasn't nearly as painful as she expected, but the pulsing throb was getting no better with his stillness. She felt her muscles spasming angrily at the intrusion, but she also felt her body adjusting to his thickness, accommodating him wonderfully, though that painful cramping didn't lessen and she concentrated on her breathing.

Draco cracked open shimmering silver eyes to glance down between them. His shoulders trembled with a shuddered sigh at the sight of them joined, his thickness disappearing between her swollen lips and their skin coated in a fine sheen of sweat and her cum – it may have very well been one of the most erotic sights he'd ever seen. He buried his face in her neck again, one hand stroking the leg over his hip, the other arm bracing his weight with fingers tangled in her hair.

"Alright?" He grit out with no small amount of effort, the task of forming words difficult, but he managed.

She nodded, nails biting harder into his flesh. Hermione couldn't be sure, but she may have broken part of the skin there, though from his resounding moan, he didn't seem to mind. She nuzzled her cheek to his, feeling the rasp of half a day's stubble, something about the ruggedness of even that made her head spin. The feel of him above her, _in her,_ it was like nothing she'd ever felt and she wanted more of his heat – more of his muscles, more of the strength in the body above her to—to do anything. To hold her, to move her, to touch her, she didn't really know and she moaned into his ear, pelvis shifting up to meet his in an insistent urge, "Please-"

Mad. Everything about this witch drove him bloody mad. She, like him, knew all of his strengths and weaknesses. She knew just where to prod him to get him to respond, and she always knew in what way to get whatever result she wanted or needed. She incited his anger, his passion – everything – they were hers. She drove him mad in every other facet of their lives, why should he be surprised that here it wasn't any different?

Draco clenched the hand stuck in her curls, his body shaking with restraint until she gave him that signal to continue. He felt her pelvis shift, a little at first then more brazenly and for a second there, Draco thought he may have died and passed on to a better place; a place full of hot, naked, tight snatched Grangers writhing beneath him, mewling.

Draco's hand dwarfed her hipbone, taking hold of her and starting her in an easy rocking move that had her clenching walls dragging down his shaft. He could already feel that he wasn't going to last long with how tightly she strangled his length. Hermione did this for several strokes, lifting her rear from the mattress, trying different angles to see which felt best at easing her ache, one of them knocking a very sensitive spot inside her. The moment the tip of him pressed against it, she let out an involuntary moan, nails dragging down his back.

"_Draco-"_

The blonde growled into her neck. The way she kept saying his name was sending sparks down his spine, sparks that drove him to move, to hasten his thrusts. His mind was blurred by the way the wet heat of her clenched, making it almost impossible to move. "So tight," he rumbled in wonder, peppering kisses over her jaw, her head tilting away to give him full access to the sensitive stretch of her neck.

One of her hands broke away from the red lines she was creating in his pale skin to delve into his short locks just long enough to urge his mouth to the overly sensitive place on her neck, craving the possessive feel of his teeth there. Hermione's eyes rolled back when he complied, pulling the meat of it into his mouth to bite and suckle, taking a break from the path his lips were circling otherwise. The pain between her legs had long since faded and all that assaulted her senses now was Draco. His racing heart beating against his ribs and hers, his hot breaths heating her skin, the sweat slicking the both of their writhing and naked bodies, his lips on her jaw, her cheek, her lips, somehow tender and sweet throughout what was quickly devolving to little more than rutting, the thickness of _him_ stroking and massaging every one of her frayed nerve endings with urgency and need, all of him, everything, he was overtaking her completely and it was beautiful.

"Keep moving," she demanded breathlessly, her voice always on the cusp of another sigh or groan of pleasure now. "Faster-"

Slave to his bossy witch's demands, Draco began thrusting again. He tried to keep the strokes long and sensual, but with each pull from her sweet, wet heat, Hermione tilted and caught the underside of his head with a decidedly maddening squeeze, causing his balls to clench in response. To make matters worse, those tantalizing moans fell from her lips in a near constant stream.

Hermione dragged her hands down his shoulders, raking down and back up his arms to anchor themselves at his biceps, ultimately distracted by the bulge of muscle there. The wizard moaned out his pleasure at the feel of her marking him, that same primal instinct from before absolutely elated at the concept of her claim. Draco listened to her rapid breathing, huffing out with fewer and fewer seconds in between alongside every concentrated thrust he made as he took her. His eyes were squeezed shut, lips still seeking refuge in the salty skin of her throat from her gasps and mewls and grunts that were swiftly driving him to his edge. He needed to bring her over just once more and with the coming spasms of her muscles, with how tightly they were clamping, he had no doubt that she would drag him with her.

Draco lost his mind in her incoherent murmurs, bottoming out inside her and hitting a spot so deep it made her keen. The bloody welts she was cutting into his pale back and arms was fucking exquisite and there was just nothing else anymore but her, her climax, and needing to hear his name on her lips like a prayer. The speed of his thrusts increased, his hips jerking of their own accord in time with the need raging through every fiber of his being. He pushed into her more solidly each time, feeling her breasts bounce roughly against his chest, her hard, perked nipples tickling over his skin and bringing his most torrid and feral desires to surface.

Draco's hand on her thigh snaked around her rear, bruising the plump cheek unapologetically. He was utterly lost in her quivering depths, swollen lips wrapped so perfectly around his cock, her muscles squeezing, clenching, fluttering, her impassioned moans babbling his given name in his ear, crying for more, and more, and more and he could find no reason at all to refuse her. He lifted her rear higher off the bed, arched her into him, pumping with a fervent desire to bring her to completion.

Hermione couldn't tell up from down, left from right, all she knew was the feel of Draco's thrusts hitting a spot inside her that sent her soaring. He thrust once, twice, a third time and then she was falling off that precipice all over again. Her toes curled, back bowing higher off the mattress, her form writhing against his sweat covered lean frame needing to feel everything about him all at once. She clawed into the meat of his back as wave after wave of pleasure cascaded through her, shudders powering through the entire length of her body.

It was all he could stand to have her cumming around him. Draco's hips jerked again and every muscle tensed as he finally found his release with another wave of her shudders. Their lower bodies practically fused together, the hot spill of his seed, balls clenching and churning to fill her so completely, came with his own wash of ecstasy crashing over him. Draco moved the hand in her hair, turning her pleasure glazed stare to him to catch the sight of rich brown and gold irises just before taking her mouth again. He massaged her lips in a deep, sensual kiss through their combined shivers and shudders, her internal squeezing calming and loosening gradually until he finally felt like he may be able to unsheathe himself.

Draco lingered within her, savoring her fading twitches that made his cock jump as well, even as he began to soften. Finally, he pulled away, hissing at the sensitivity, the cool air hitting his cum soaked skin as he slipped from her passage, the evidence of their coupling leaking from her to drip onto their sheets. Draco groaned, pulling away from her kisses only so far as to press their foreheads together as he was undecided as to whether or not he was done snogging his wife.

Hermione cracked open her eyes, not remembering when she'd shut them, and the smile that curved her lips was automatic. Perhaps it was seeing him so spent from his efforts above her, maybe it was an inherent womanly satisfaction knowing what they'd done – the feel of his seed still dripping out of her, surprisingly not unwelcome – whatever it was, it was...nice. The word being applied to what just happened was funny and out of place, but she liked it.

The witch moved her hand to comb the blonde fringe from Draco's still panting face and she gasped. Her nails and fingertips were, for the most part, all tipped in red and there were a few that had little clumps of shaved off layers skin caked under the innocent looking edges. "Oh my—Draco, I'm so sorry!"

He smirked lazily, completely spent and doing well by at least holding himself up still instead of crushing her petite figure. Draco caught one of her hands that was trying to move him and search for the injuries and just brought it to his mouth, kissing over the pulse point on her wrist before easing it away. "Don't be, s'what happens when you take a lioness to bed."

The wizard sat back on his haunches, wincing at the movement, despite his easy comment – she really cut him all to hell...he'd just have to remember that next time. '_Next time...not a next time. This is a one time thing out of necessity.'_ Even in his head, his reminder to himself sounded weak and unconvincing. Still wanting to enjoy his post-coital high, Draco shoved those damning thoughts away for the moment.

Hermione was on her back, pillowed by cushions and wadded sheets and remnants of clothing. Her hair was tangled and so much more reminiscent of her normal huge nest of crazy than the sleek spirals she'd sported earlier in the day. Her lightly tanned skin was still holding the flush of their exertions but was fast fading, though the bruises from his grip and teeth were blooming into brilliant shades of purple and blue, the sight of _them_ was already causing stirrings in his lower parts again. Hermione was so sprawled and tired and content looking, even if she _was_ stark naked with a smear of white drying between her thighs, he had to smile at the picture she made.

Draco offered her a hand, she took it but groaned at the movement of sitting upright – she was certain she heard several of her joints crackle and pop as well. She was about to say something, probably apologize again or try and come up with a witty response to his last comment, though admittedly her thinking brain was still rebooting, but she forgot whatever it was that she was going to do when she felt the tender touch at her cheek. She blinked, not understanding at first, but realized that Draco was staring at her, his gaze so much lighter than the gray or silver she was used to. It was soft, and sincere, and...and really quite nice, actually.

"Wh-what?" She asked self-consciously.

The blonde chuckled and shook his head, thumb brushing across her cheekbone and sweeping the hair from her face – a task that always seemed necessary for her.

Hermione nodded in response, accepting the lack of explanation, finding she wasn't sure if she wanted to know all the thoughts behind the look he was giving her. "I'm going to...I'm going to go wash up."

Carefully and with no shortage of wincing and grunting at the different kinds of aches settling into her bones, she extracted herself from the tempting pull of passing the fuck out in the bed to gingerly make her way to the bathroom. The witch paused at the edge of the bed, hesitating and fiddling with her red tinged fingers. Hermione glanced over her shoulder, blushing when she met eyes with Draco again, who'd apparently been watching her.

"Did you...did you want to, as well?"

Draco's eyebrows both went up to his hairline at the offer, but he thought about it only for a few seconds before shaking his head and offering her a smirk. "I'll wait until you're done."

"Oh, o-okay." The brunette nodded again, turning back to shuffle towards her destination and trying to hide the odd slump to her shoulders. She wasn't entirely sure why she was disappointed by the answer but she didn't get a chance to ponder it because she was stopped again.

He hesitated, staring hard at the hand that shot out to attach itself to her wrist. Draco gulped, eyes scanning up and down her body, hating how she'd already started curling back in on herself in doubt.

_What's said here stays here..._

Draco leaned forward, meeting her hand halfway and brushing his lips across her knuckles, just as he'd done in her office the day they signed their papers. He made sure to catch and hold her stare before speaking, "You _are_ beautiful, Hermione. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

He watched the color reemerge in her cheeks and her head dipped shyly but she smirked, holding it back for a second before it tipped past the edge and became a full smile. She nodded, "Thank you, Draco."

Their stares met once more before he released her, allowing her to finally go about her business. As he stared at the closed door and listened to the rustling noises develop into the familiar sounds of a running shower, he frowned. Draco swung his legs around the edge of the bed and planted his bare feet to the carpet, staring off at a distant spec that probably wasn't even there at all. His body was calm but his mind was racing with images and scents and sounds of a certain little chestnut haired witch who had firmly and finally barged her way into every aspect of his life. With every memory and thought, popped up a question – many questions – which would serve to make their arrangement much more complicated going forward.

He groaned, sinking his head into his palms, "Fuck."

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**A/N:** P.S. - Yes, the first dance song was "Hello" by Lionel Richie. I'm sorry, couldn't resist.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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_**Knowing You**_

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Hermione toweled herself off, stealing an extra one to wrap her hair in and securing the other snugly around her midsection. Reaching forward to clear away a spot on the fogged mirror, she allowed herself a nice long look at the new Mrs. Malfoy, having a distinct sense of deja vu as she met her own stare once again that night.

She wasn't really sure what she'd expected to see.

The ceremony was for show, the union was all legal rubbish, and her new name was just that, a name. So why did everything feel so...different? Her fingers reached up to trace the dark spotting dotting her neck and shoulder from Draco's overeager suckling and biting, she knew for a fact that she had similar bruising on her hip and she suspected maybe even on her rear. The two rings now adorning her left hand sparkled in the light cast from the bulbs over the mirror and she sighed again.

It was a lie, she knew exactly why everything felt different.

Hermione looked to the closed door, imagining what Draco was up to on the other side – probably becoming impatient at her dawdling. Or maybe he was wanting to speak with her, to see her again? Her heart thudded at that notion and she slapped at her cheeks with both hands, trying to stir some sense into her fool self.

They had made an agreement. An agreement that stated that they would never mention a word of what happened this night to anyone, not even themselves, after they left the bedroom. Hermione felt the dull ache of disappointment in her chest again, the very same that plagued her when she'd found out about the rings. It was a stupid thing and she needed to set her head back in the right place.

"Just business...and nothing more," she watched her mouth move, the words too loud and _wrong_ in the stillness of the bathroom. Hermione frowned, shook her head, and tried to push it all from her mind. Normally not one for gossip, she was quickly realizing that forgetting about this night...not telling Ginny or even Luna about any of it...it was going to prove to be a monumental task.

_'It was magnificent...'_

Blowing out a deep breath, truly exasperated with her childish doting and hiding in the bathroom, Hermione steeled herself to face Draco – her _husband_ – and resolved to make it as painless as possible. She looked around for her change of clothes to go ahead and dress herself only to come up with absolutely nothing. Her brow furrowed and she turned a few circles, as though that would make her clothing appear, and when she realized she'd not brought in any with her, she groaned.

"Brilliant," she remarked snidely to herself.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, staring hard at the tile and the fluffy rug beneath her feet. She thought about the consequences of going out in just her towel, even for a few moments. Would he say anything? Would it be horribly awkward? Would he even notice? She chastised herself...of course he would notice...with the way he'd been looking at her lately—Hermione shuddered for a reason entirely other than the cold draft in the room.

Would he want...another go?

She felt her blood heating just at the thought and that involuntary clench in her lower body that triggered those recently used muscles that were still sore from being so recently used. Hermione smoothed her hands over her towel clad body, desperately trying to ignore the twinge in thighs that seemed to miss being wrapped around a certain blonde's hard body.

Hermione's eyelids fluttered shut while she tried to calm her pulse, though it only seemed to make it worse. With her eyes closed, she could clearly picture the way he looked above her. How his face looked like he was constantly battling very unsavory urges in order to take her as gently as he could manage – which all said and done wasn't really gentle at all. Part of her was concerned at what that said about her, but she'd been ignoring it for the moment.

The way he clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils when he would pull almost all the way out, the way his muscles and tendons jumped under the taut layer of his pale skin with every thrust, the way he kissed her so desperately through their joint climax, reluctant to let her go after— she let out another shuddering gasp and jerked her hand away from the inside of her thigh where it was sneaking of its own accord.

"Shit," she grunted quietly, rubbing at her face. Hermione couldn't go back out there yet. She wasn't ready to face him, but she couldn't stay in the bathroom forever. "Shit." She repeated, leaning heavily on the counter to try and figure what to do with herself.

After several minutes of panicked deliberation, she resolved to just dry her hair and _then_ go out and just allow whatever the hell was going to happen, happen. It wasn't her typical methodology for problem solving, but with her scalp starting to feel sticky from the moisture trapped by her hair and towel and her skin cooling to an uncomfortable level in the confines of the bathroom suite, it was the best she could do.

Hermione made quick work of her curls, using her wand to dry off the damp tresses and fighting through all the tangles with her fingers. Once she was done, her hair looked like its normal self again, no longer weighed down by the dozens of potions and hair tonics Ginny used to coerce the locks into easing their frizz. She missed the more elegant look of the loose, draping spirals, but it was good to feel a little more like herself again. Hermione smiled at her reflection, gave herself an encouraging nod, wiping her palms free from water and sweat, and proceeded to finally exit the bathroom.

What little steam still lingered wafted from one room into the other, dissipating as quickly as it came into the much more open area. Immediately upon reentering the bedroom, Hermione was greeted with the soft rhythmic sound that was a bit like the rasping of sandpaper against a rugged surface. She blinked, searching around the room and coming to rest on the snoring form of Draco. She couldn't help herself and snickered quietly at the adorable picture he made.

Draco was stretched out under the sheets – on _her_ side of the bed no less – with the edge of them pulled up to his waist. His lean, cut upper body was exposed. The rippling abdominals, so aptly named by her redheaded friend, rose and fell along with his chest and even breathing. Draco's pale arms were sprawled lazily, one draped across his stomach and the other tucked behind his head. One of his legs stretched out beneath the blankets and the other was exposed and bent at the knee, foot firmly planted on top of them. By the look of his naked hip, he hadn't bothered to put anything back on after she left for her shower.

Smirking, Hermione crept closer to investigate his sleeping figure. Upon further inspection, she was relieved to see he'd had enough sense to _scourgify_ the bed and himself before he'd curled up under the blankets. When she neared the nightstand, she gasped, seeing the time on the clock. She'd been in there for the better part of two hours – no wonder he'd fallen asleep. Suddenly feeling bad, she decided against her initial instincts to prod at him until he woke. She found that she'd managed to get her hopes up, thinking about what else could have possibly happened that evening and was almost regretting the tiny bit of lost time.

Hermione smiled softly at his snoozing face, mouth parted just enough for him to make that steady snore. She leaned forward with the intention of pressing a kiss to his cheek, but his breathing stuttered and he flipped onto his side roughly, facing her and muttering unintelligible words under his breath with eyes still closed in slumber. Her presence must have unsettled him, though not enough to wake him fully. She could sympathize in a way. Sleeping while on the run for as long as she did during the war, even though it had been enough years with relative peace, she still sometimes woke at the faintest noises and movements if she was in the company of friends. It was, to a degree, part of the reason that she worked herself to complete exhaustion most of the time – so she could actually get some sleep.

With that line of thought, the witch frowned and returned to her original goal of finding clothing to wear to bed. How embarrassing, not to mention potentially horrifying, would it be for him to wake suddenly to find her just staring at him from the side of the bed? After shuffling about their bedroom and trying to remember where she relocated all of her night things to, she was finally able to shed her towel and get changed into a fresh pair of knickers and a simple camisole and shorts pyjama set.

Hermione set her hands on her hips and pursed her lips in disapproval at the sight again of Draco all sprawled on her side of the bed. It was the side that had all the important things. The lamp, the clock, the remote for the telly!..though they didn't have one in the bedroom, but if they did, that's where it would go! It was the control side and obviously _her_ side. Shaking her head, she opted to let him have it for tonight and crawled into bed on the opposite side, scooching as far to the edge as she was able without risking falling off. The moment she was settled and comfortable she groaned, realizing that she'd forgotten to turn off the light. Hermione was about to get back up, but she noticed a familiar piece of wood on the otherwise barren second nightstand. Her brow furrowed and she carefully picked it up, rolling it around in her hand as if to make sure it was his. She blinked confusedly at it then looked around a bit more on the side she currently occupied, finding a little pile of Draco's discarded clothing that looked deliberately stacked nearby, along with his shoes from today tucked neatly under the bed frame.

A slow smile curled its way across her lips and she looked at the sleeping blonde again. She wasn't sure why he'd chosen to wait for her in her spot but it he'd definitely done it on purpose. Hermione chuckled and carefully leaned towards him again, the welts and cuts over his back from her nails all crisscrossing in dozens and dozens of hashmarks, extremely visible and angry. She was careful and her kiss was just the lightest of touches to his closest bared shoulder. With a small wave of his borrowed wand, she mumbled a word and cast them into darkness.

Hermione wriggled back under the sheet, tucking his wand under her pillow out of habit and getting comfortable once again on the edge of the bed with their backs facing each other. She smiled and whispered, "Good night, Draco."

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The act of waking was always an interesting process for him. Some days he was up and alert in an instant. Others, it seemed to take him nearly all day to get up to speed. With all the stress from work and the addition of seeing to the wedding and honeymoon, Draco wasn't sleeping well or long and it was more often than not the latter that he had the pleasure of experiencing.

This morning was a little bit different.

His consciousness, his mind, woke first. Sounds floated in, then the sense of light around him, maybe streaming in from a window, the next was a very warm, very soothing, heat pressed flush to his front side, and then there was the sensation of something in his arms, whatever it was smelled of flowers and citrus. It took many minutes for all of these things to pull themselves into place, but once they did, his right mind started turning back on, a dozen switches flipping and powering up his brain into only a mildly drowsy state. Silver eyes cracked open and the picture of a tangle of brown is the only thing he could make out.

Blinking owlishly, Draco craned his head, making sure to make no sudden movements until he properly identified the situation. The moment he saw Hermione's profile, everything snapped back on at once. His body stiffened, though he was careful not to disturb her.

The last that he recalled, he was waiting for her to get out of the shower – and _really _having to take a piss – with his brain completely unable to shut off from replaying over and over his deflowering of Gryffindor's princess. Years ago he would have balked at the idea, sneered, and balked some more. Fewer years ago, he would've just taken it as a challenge and way to spite those he thought he'd hated. Now, the vivid memories of the way she looked and felt when she was unraveling below him were doing nothing more than making his already rock hard morning erection even more insistent, especially since it was apparently nestled between the cheeks of the individual he was most interested in shagging and also the current topic of his thoughts.

Draco groaned into her hair, realizing his arms were wrapped around her. One arm scooped below her to curl around with that hand cupping one of her breasts and the other draped over her hip, heavily pinning their lower bodies together. Merlin, she felt wonderful, especially first thing in the morning. She was hard and soft in all the right places and her little body was a steady warmth, radiating heat against his front and making him want to stay in bed forever.

As if she could hear his thoughts, she let out a soft noise, something between a sigh and a moan, and adjusted herself in his grip. Her head snuggled further into the pillow they currently shared in the center of the bed. Hermione's bum wriggled back to press firmly to his bare crotch, another sigh escaping her when she apparently found something she liked in her slumbering state.

Draco's eyes rolled back in his head, the hand at her hip clenching tightly to freeze her wiggling rear. _'Fuck.'_ The word kept repeating itself in his head between the prominent throbbing between his legs. His breathing had picked up and his chest was rising and falling a bit more hurriedly, pulling in oxygen to supply his extremities with energy to do what they desperately wanted to do to the sleeping woman in his arms.

With great restraint, Draco peeled his hands away from her tit and her hip, one finger coming away at a time so very reluctantly. He was working to free himself as gingerly as possible, although her breathing was so deep and heavy and relaxed he was sure it would take a good jostling to wake her – he allowed himself a short moment of satisfaction with the acknowledgment that he worked her into that exhaustion. Draco was nearly free, just the arm resting under her between the curve of her waist and the bed left to extract, when she shifted again, rolling to her back and sprawling lazily. He quirked an eyebrow when one of her legs draped over his and an arm flung out, almost smacking into his face.

Was she doing this on purpose?

Draco eyed her face critically, waiting for her expression to change and the facade to melt away, and when it didn't, he sighed again. Frowning at this situation, he mulled over his options. Trapped by this bed-hog of a woman, one of her arms still draped awkwardly over his neck and shoulder, a leg hooked around his, his rather insistent throbbing erection tenting the thin sheet atop them, and his right arm firmly secured beneath the weight of her body he had two that he could think of.

The first, and most desirable, would be to wake her, shag her, shower, shag her _in_ the shower, and get some breakfast to properly start the day...maybe shag her on the table as well depending on how physically exerting the other rounds were.

The second, and the one he feared he was going to go with in accordance with all of their previous agreements, was to wake her, excuse himself for an extremely cold shower, dress her in a burlap sack so he didn't have to see any of her tempting body today, and pack some things for the honeymoon; the one that he should probably tell her about at some point, though he was postponing speaking to her again for as long as possible.

Draco's resolve was crumbling the longer he allowed himself to watch the woman sleep. That act alone felt odd, perhaps a bit creepy, until he remembered that _technically_ she was his wife now, so...not all that creepy. What wife wouldn't want her husband to look at her so hungrily? That's the only way that he could describe the incessant press of urges tipping him further and further to the first option.

Hermione turned her head, snuggling more deeply into their pillow, a small curve of contentment on her lips. The blotchy blue-green mess of bruises on her neck sent a jolt of possessiveness through him, but it also provided him with a sudden and suffocating pressure in his chest. Last night was her first time and, as was evident from the marks he'd left, he'd lost more control than he'd ever intended. She was good at that, making him lose control. Salazar knew that the witch got under his skin quicker than anything else.

Draco brought his free hand to her face, sweeping her curls from her cheek and stroking the back of a few knuckles over the skin there, smirking when she sighed and her smile grew just a hair wider at the caress.

_'Fuck.'_ He repeated his mantra internally once more.

It must have been something engrained in her very being that turned everything around her on its head, because the decision that Draco finally came to was his least favored one. He'd signed their agreements, they'd discussed what would happen after the wedding night – both under the impression that last night was going to be awful and horrid and not at all _fucking brilliant_ like it was – and he promised her, _**promised her**_, to abide by everything in paper and verbally confirmed. Now that his unfortunate choice was made, he had to come up with a most delicate way to rouse her without scaring her shitless at the fact that she'd snuggled herself all up to his naked self over the course of the night.

Draco scanned over her form and his, the room, the bed, looking for any idea that would end with his bollocks still whole and attached. A little hint of black caught his eye, peeking out from one of the pillows still on the far side of the bed. He raised an eyebrow and with just as much care as everything else, he reached over to grasp the object. As soon as his fingertips hit the wood, he knew it was, in fact, his wand tucked under the pillow. He was sure he'd left it on the nightstand, though at the moment he thought not to question it.

Grinning happily to himself, Draco created an option three: cocoon Granger in a small area dampening spell so she wouldn't hear him moving around and stealthily escape the morning after awkwardness within the bedroom. Once their feet crossed the threshold of the room today, they were to speak nothing of it, so he could just pretend it never happened, as she seemed very intent on doing as well yesterday.

Good plan? Great plan.

With his mind made up, Draco did just that. He entombed her in a modified _muffliato_ and shifted her slowly enough to free himself without her stirring. Like a ninja, he rolled himself off of the mattress, not nudging her or jostling the bed once. Glancing back a few times, Draco tiptoed around the room, gathering some clothes, and made quick work of a shockingly frigid shower to chase away his morning wood, the idea of handling it himself decidedly unappealing after last night. He looked back to her once more just at the edge of the door to their room, seeing her sleeping so soundly with a peaceful smile still on her face...then he left.

The feeling of a lead weight in his stomach came with him.

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It was strange how your mind could play tricks on you. Or how powerful your imagination was when it came to making up all kinds of situations and events. At the moment, Hermione was pondering how her head could be making the beautifully lit stretch of hallway leading to her – no, _their_ – new kitchen about as intimidating as a death march to meet her maker.

The woman had woken up alone. For Hermione, this wasn't really anything new. She'd been alone for a little while now and even when she was with Ron, they didn't have an extremely physically intimate relationship, so sleeping together was done few times and far between. She was groggy when she awoke, the hour a little bit later than she typically allowed herself to sleep, even on the weekends. She suspected a large part of her sleepy confusion was how physically taxing the entirety of the previous day, and night, was. The other part of it was waking in an unfamiliar room with nothing of note to anchor her.

Draco was missing when she came to and Hermione was grateful at first. After all, it took her nearly two hours in the bathroom to be able to even come out and face his unconscious form after they'd consummated their marriage. The more she got to thinking of it, though, she realized she was saddened by this fact. She'd fallen asleep with the idea of talking to him in the morning about a few things before everything went back to normal. It may have been just as well, she supposed, considering how eager he apparently was to get back to their same old routine. Draco's spot, _her_ spot, was cold when she came to, so he'd been gone for quite a while. Hermione wasn't sure if he was still even home at first, but with it being a weekend, plus the day after their wedding...she didn't think he would go much of anywhere else. So...there she stood, at the base of the steps, staring down the hallway that opened into the first level of their home and where the blonde was likely to be loitering about.

The witch allowed another couple of minutes to collect herself, finally deciding that cowering in the corner of her own damned house was childish and silly. Straightening her spine, sticking up her nose and out her chin, she balled her hands into fists at her sides and marched down the hall into the kitchen to make herself some breakfast. Her search for Draco was extremely short-lived, and the sight there was not intimidating at all. In fact, it was decidedly...mundane; and more than a little strange.

Draco was sitting at the deep cherry colored dining table – the smallest that she was able to talk him into purchasing and still too big for just the two of them – sipping tea from a coffee mug with a grimace and reading a copy of The Daily Prophet while occasionally having a bite of toast. No...not toast, just...bread?

Hermione looked at him questioningly. "Malfoy? Are you eating bread for breakfast?"

The blonde's eyes snapped to her form in the hall, instinctively appraising her figure and having to force his eyes back to the paper. His quick glance noted that she must have healed or charmed away the distinct marks he'd left on her last night, because her skin was as pristine as ever.

_'Just like it never happened...'_

He replied blandly, "Why so surprised? Plenty of people have it for breakfast every day."

Her eyebrows rose higher, head tilting to one side. His speech was tighter this morning, more rigid and lacking that usual drawl he enjoyed employing so much. It wasn't biting necessarily but it was very terse. Hermione frowned and moved further into the room, looking over his plate. "Yes...but they usually toast it first."

Draco just grunted and tried to focus on reading the lines of the paper. Truthfully, he'd been staring at the same three lines of text trying to make sense of the words ever since he heard the weight of her steps on the stairs. His shoulders were tense with the anticipation of her arriving in the kitchen, and even when she did, he'd been so lost in anxious thought that she still surprised him. His idea of leaving everything that happened in the bedroom there was very swiftly coming back around to bite him in the arse.

"Uh..Malfoy-"

"What?" He snapped.

Hermione tried to ignore his curt behavior. She'd experienced some of his early mornings here and there in the office and he was never a bright ray of sunshine that soon after sunrise, but she couldn't help the feeling that it was all directly related to last night. There was an ache in her chest at the thought of going back to how they were before any of this all started, especially after spending the night together like they did. She sighed heavily, disgusted with herself. Fawning and forgetting herself over a man after sleeping with him – even if it _was_ technically her husband. Who was she, Lavender Brown?

"Draco, where's the kettle?"

The blonde blinked up at her, she was looking at him curiously and didn't even seem to realize she'd slipped back to using his first name again. Excellent, because hearing her speak his name now wasn't even remotely tied to a slew of wonderfully pleasure filled memories or anything. "I didn't use it."

"Didn't..." Hermione blinked again, looking around the kitchen. It was suspiciously devoid of anything that could be pegged as being used for food preparation and if she recalled correctly his wand was still upstairs. At least she thought she recalled seeing it on his nightstand again. But then what did-

"It's hot water from the tap..."

Her eyes went wide in understanding, glancing at the Muggle stove and then back to the blonde, "OH! Godric, I'm sorry! You don't know how to use any of this, do you?"

Draco fought the flush that threatened to creep into his face at having such a weakness so blatantly spoken aloud. He replied testily, "As was evident in our contract, I don't."

Hermione stood with her hands on her hips, not appreciating his tone at all, and allowed herself to ease back into this most familiar dance. She embraced her irritation with him with practiced ease. "Well why the hell didn't you wake me up?"

Draco shrugged, still failing at reading the article in his hands, but flipping a page to make as though he were actually making some progress anyway. He looked at her with a lopsided grin, "And bring this attitude on me any sooner than necessary? Now why would I do that?" She huffed and rolled her eyes and was about to say something that looked to be particularly biting until he added, "Plus, you looked comfortable and I thought you could use the rest."

The wind blew out of her sails. Her mouth flattened into a thin line and she narrowed her eyes, "Well...thank you then. But you _should _have woken me up. You're right, it was in the contract...I won't have you starve out of neglect."

He chuckled, folding the paper away at last, finding he wasn't going to have any success with it with her in the room especially. "I'm not a child, Granger, I'm sure I'll survive a morning with a bit of bread and...the most awful tea in the universe."

Hermione came over to where he was sitting, plucking up his mug and eying it distastefully. "But really, Malfoy, the _tap_? That's blasphemous." Experimentally, she brought the cup to her mouth and took a sampling, spitting out the liquid immediately. "UGH! That _is_ bloody awful!"

Draco was grinning, arms folded across his chest, watching her fondly and noting how comfortable she was behaving around him. It was a surprising and pleasant change from the usual stick-up-her-arse Granger and he allowed himself to enjoy it while it lasted. "I did warn you."

"Blech," she smacked her tongue and lips together a few more times to rid herself of the flavor. "What are you doing drinking tea in the morning anyway? I thought you took coffee before noon."

"I usually do," he looked surprised at her observation, "But...again, I'm not really sure how that _thing_ works. And after looking at it, it seems a trifle more complex than hot water and this...entertaining little fellow you've got here."

He held up a perforated metal figure in the shape of a man with a climbing hook that was made to catch onto the edge of a cup while steeping tea leaves and shook it at her. He then nodded over to what he knew to be the coffee maker, though he dared not touch it with all the little buttons and doodads on its face and trays that came out and just all the extra pieces there seemed to be.

How complicated was it really? Draco was sure he could eventually manage, though he wasn't eager to incite the woman's wrath by breaking anything, even if he could just purchase a new one. The spending of money seemed to drive her batty for whatever reason...she was such a strange woman.

Hermione sighed, but there was a smile behind it. She took the mug with her to the sink, pointedly dumping out the liquid and giving it a quick scrub. "He is rather cute, don't you think?" She grinned, finding he'd moved to join her near the sink, leaning casually against the counter to watch her.

"Adorable," he smirked.

The witch blushed and focused very pointedly at drying the mug, "Sorry again, Malfoy. None of these are very difficult to operate, I'll show you this morning if you'd like."

Draco shrugged dismissively, "Like I said, I'll survive. A day...two days...maybe three if I push it. No hurry."

Hermione snorted and smacked him lightly on the arm, "I'll take that for a yes. So we'll start with coffee...and I'll just fix us some eggs and _real_ toast this morning but I'll show you how to turn everything on and how to make sure everything's off so you don't burn our house down."

"Really? I can operate the trickiest of burners and brew some of the most complicated potions in existence, not to mention I have as extensive of an encyclopedia of volatile ingredient knowledge in my head as you do in yours. What on earth makes you think I would burn our house down?"

The witch raised an eyebrow at him and motioned to the range, "The fact that you couldn't successfully turn on the stove top raises a few concerns. Certainly you know how to operate a _stove,_ Malfoy?" Hermione had a moment where she actually looked horrified at the idea of the man being that incapable of such basic tasks.

Draco crossed his arms, "Well I've _seen_ it...I just have never had to do it myself before."

She blinked. "Surely you had one in your flat?"

"Of course I did."

"So how did you...no. You know what? Don't tell me, I'm fairly positive I don't want to know."

Hermione shook her head, catching Draco's reddening face out of the corner of her eye. She immediately started to feel bad. His posture really said it all...that and the vein in his head that would throb in time with his clenching jaw when she was doing something to embarrass, outsmart, or just generally get on his nerves. Even though she was still undecided as to whether he'd been considerate in letting her sleep in, or cowardly in making her wake up by herself, Hermione really had little desire to bicker, at least not yet; it was still early. She would make some coffee first and then revisit the notion.

Brushing past him, Hermione pulled the coffee maker away from the wall and outlet it was plugged into. When he made no motion to move from the place he was leaning against, she smacked his hip with the back of her hand. "Come on then, are you learning or are you leaning?"

Draco jumped slightly at the soft blow and arched an eyebrow, giving her a look. She arched one herself and looked right back defiantly. They held each other's stare for a minute like that, her waiting for him to do something, and him trying to decide if she was fucking with him or not. He shook his head and laughed at last, standing back up straight and flashing her a smirk, the embarrassment starting to melt away. "Learning, Professor Granger."

"Malfoy-" The correction slipped out before she had a chance to think about it.

"What?"

She turned her head to see him looking expectantly, waiting for instruction. "Oh, I mean.._Malfoy_. It would be Professor..Malfoy, right? Technically.." Her voice got smaller and smaller until it finally pittered away in the middle of the last word. She turned pointedly back to filling the pot with water for the machine, her turn to be flustered. She had to stop doing that.

"Ah, yes I guess you're right." He said lamely, his normal library of sarcastic retorts, failing him.

Draco accepted the coffee pot when she presented it to him watching her when his fingertips brushed over hers in the hand off and sent tingles dancing down his limbs. Judging by the way those big brown eyes were staring up at him, her bottom lip taken between her teeth, he guessed she felt it too.

It was a jolt, a tickling spark that lanced through them both at the contact. For him it brought all the memories of her bared skin to surface. The memory of how soft and pliable it was against his, how the insides of her thighs were like silk wrapped around his waist with her feminine curves arching into his body, it was all still very fresh – very raw in his mind.

The witch was simply too passionate about everything. All the things she engaged in or spent any amount of efforts doing were done so intently that it begged for attention. It was simply the way she was. If she were to do anything, she would do it properly, be an overachiever if she could. As was evident from yesterday evening...she did _him_ quite properly. Even though he physically led the way for the actual act, her insistent cries and urging, her blissful expressions, sighs, and a miscellany of other noises embedded themselves and he found it increasingly more difficult – practically impossible – to think of anything but. Every warm touch of hers, every waft of that subtle fragrance, which he concluded at last was simply her shampoo and soap and _not_ a perfume, brought the memories of her beneath him in the height of ecstasy, holding onto him for dear life, welcoming him deeper into her, and very blatantly calling for _him_ and no other man.

Draco made a grave error.

It was a mistake, he realized, thinking he would be able to tuck any memory of Hermione into a box and forget about it, and in a single night that oversight changed much more than he'd bargained for.

"Here, add that here."

Hermione's soft spoken direction brought him out of his reverie and the air in the room shifted to a tense, tangible thing.

Draco followed her instructions, step by step, from adding water into the reservoir all the way to preparing the grounds and filter. The task was so domestic and plain but the silent looks exchanged between the two were full of heavy words that both parties struggled to keep unspoken.

Hermione focused all her efforts into assuming her tutoring role, explaining appliances and functions in an informative and non-condescending manner. Delving so far into such a familiar action helped to distract her from the steady warmth of the man at her back looking over her shoulder when she was explaining something or reaching past or above her to retrieve items he'd stored impractically for her height when he had the place stocked. It helped keep her mind off of the subtle touches and nudges, the kind of which they'd shared many times in passing over the past few weeks, but now ignited pinpoints of heat wherever they dared touch. It helped keep her from replaying thoughts of regret at not being able to ask the questions plaguing her mind.

_Was last night okay? __Did she do anything wrong?_  


"Granger-"

_Did he enjoy it? ...he seemed like he enjoyed it..._

"..Granger.."

_Did he really think she was beautiful?_

"-er-"

_Did he realize that he was babbling her name over and over when he came?_

"Hermione?"

The witch snapped her head up, "Huh?"

"The eggs. They look done," Draco removed his hand from the one of hers that had been stirring the fluffy eggs with a rubber spatula. He looked at her with some concern, tucking her crazy hair behind an ear. "You alright?"

Hermione flinched away from his touch, not because it was unpleasant, but because it riled too many things in her, too soon; it surprised her. She didn't miss the way his eyes tightened around the edges at her reaction and for yet another time that morning, she felt awful. Hermione didn't know what she was doing. She wasn't sure how to navigate this situation, having never been in it or any one like it before.

The witch nodded and hurriedly turned off the burner, plating the eggs and some toast for him, as well as refilling the mug she'd confiscated with the freshly brewed coffee. Hermione pushed the fixings at him and urged him to sit back down to eat his food. He was reluctantly pushed back towards the cherry wood dining set, though his eyes never left her figure. She was very intent on increasing the space between them, the further away she was from him, the more she could get her thoughts to clear.

"I'm going to go get dressed." She blurted it out hastily, wiping her hands on a dish towel and making her way back towards the hall.

"For what? Where are you going?" Draco turned in his seat, about to get up again but she waved him back and he noticed the slight panic surfacing in her eyes. Reluctantly, he sat back down.

"Work-" She stammered, "The office. I'm going to go in and catch up on some things. I'll just be gone for a few hours. I've been worrying so much about the wedding this past week that I'm a bit behind and-"

"Work—it's Saturday! What about breakfast? And what about the honeymoon?"

Hermione let out a breathy laugh, "Honeymoon? What honeymoon? We never planned a honeymoon." She didn't give him a chance to answer before shaking her head again and excusing herself rather quickly to disappear back down the hall. "I'll see you this afternoon, Malfoy."

"I did.." Draco frowned, getting up to follow her just enough to watch her scurry up the staircase and around the corner.

Every muscle in him was urging him to go after her and convince her to stay – one muscle in particular had a few ideas about _how_ to do so – but he remembered the way she jerked from him and how deliberately she found a way to keep him from touching her just now. The signals she was putting off were so mixed and confusing...maybe it would do them both some good to separate for a few hours and get their heads back on straight.

The wizard seated himself back in front of the plate of eggs and toast she'd fixed for him. The sight of it brought the smallest smile back to his face, remembering how horrified she looked at finding out what he'd attempted to eat for breakfast before she got there.

Doting and concerned one minute.

Skittish and frigid the next.

Absolutely unable to ignore her.

This woman really did drive him mad.

_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-..-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

"I'm sorry 'Mione."

"I told you already, Ron, it's alright. I don't care."

"Yes but you're saying it in _that way_, which means you DO care. So I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Ronald."

"'Mione I mean it, I'm really sorr-"

"Ronald Weasley if you say I'm sorry ONE more time-"

"Sorry!"

Hermione's eye twitched and she huffed out a breath at the redhead across from her. She'd successfully escaped her new home without bumping into Draco again, though she suspected he was intentionally letting her leave uninterrupted. Whatever his reasoning for leaving her be, she wasn't about to question it for long this time. She'd needed the space to think about some things, some unforeseen things that had arisen between yesterday evening and this morning that she hadn't anticipated, and was really looking forward to some peace and quiet in the office to let her mind wander.

True to form, her ex had the most remarkably bad timing.

For whatever reason, Ron was in the office today and had caught her in the middle of a cold lunch picked up from an unappetizing bin in the cafeteria. She'd taken her work with her since there was hardly anyone there at all and this portion of her investigation wasn't overly dangerous nor particularly secretive, so she had some jeweler's tools and the bracelet she'd been picking apart next to her on the table. So intent on her prodding, she never even heard Ron's approach until he sat himself across from her and immediately began apologizing for missing the ceremony the day before.

"It's fine," she repeated, irritation clear in her voice. "I promise you, I'm not mad. I understand that you and Charlie both had some obligations that had to be upheld. It was also very short notice."

Ron's hand came to settle over one of hers that held a very thin pair of pliers, stilling her work until she looked up. He gave her his best, most earnest smile, the corners of it stretching more when she finally cracked one of her own. "I mean it. I may not like that you had to marry that git, but I wouldn't have missed it willingly." The redhead's smile faltered, "I bet you looked amazing."

Hermione blushed at the wistful tone in the man's voice and had to look away from the too meaningful stare he was giving her.

"More than you could fathom, Weasley."

The woman's brown eyes went wide and her head shot up, hand jerking away from Ron's reflexively. When she turned, she saw the telltale saunter of her new husband, dressed more casually than was typical, coming up to the table to join them.

"Malfoy!" A surprised exclamation.

"Malfoy." A low mutter of acknowledgment.

"Afternoon," Draco greeted evenly, gray eyes narrowed at the other man. There was more just itching to come out but he kept reminding himself to be cordial. Cordial, cordial, cordial. He wondered if there was a cordial way to punch someone in the face. The thought made him smirk.

"What are you doing here?"

The blonde pulled away from what he was sure ended up being a most sinister looking grin directed to the Weasel and looked back to the brunette. "Picking up my wife."

Hermione furrowed her brows, "For what? I told you I'd see you this afternoon."

Draco tugged his pocket watch out, eying the tiny clock face before tucking it back into its spot. "And it is afternoon now."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Doesn't change the fact that it is, in fact, afternoon. I've come to collect you so we can go on our honeymoon."

"What?" _'He was serious?'_

"Honeymoon?" Ron asked skeptically. "Where could you possibly be planning to go that she would enjoy more than being here near her friends? You don't know enough about her to know where she'd want to go, isn't that right 'Mione?"

"Now Ron-"

"Well it wouldn't be much of a surprise if I just blurted it all out right now, now would it? Besides, it's not really any of your business where we're going."

Hermione's eyes flicked from one man to the other curiously.

Ron snorted unattractively, "Right. Sure, good excuse. You just don't want to admit in front of me where it is, cause you know I won't be as polite about what a poor choice it was as she will."

"Oh please," Draco rolled his eyes, "If you honestly think I'm going to respond to your goading, you need to get a new hobby. Some of us have grown past our schoolyard squabbling, Weasley...though I guess you were always a bit of a late bloomer."

"Whatever you say, Malfoy, but just know that you can't just buy her off like any of your slags! Hermione's not interested in money!"

"Ronald!"

"Well that must make you feel worlds better then, because it at least meant you would've had a chance with her! Too bad you fell short in every other field imaginable-"

"Draco!"

"Why you-"

Ron was on his feet and moving around the table, fists clenched at the mere sight of the blonde. To this day, he still didn't understand why he or any of his traitorous family was walking free. After all the Malfoys and their kin had done to his own family and friends before and during the war, Ron thought it infuriating that they were acquitted of all responsibility for their actions just because they were a group of cowards that switched sides at the last moment. To know that they were out, free, and most of all, that the biggest wanker of them all was now married to the woman he'd been in love with – it was infuriating and brought his blood to a raging boil.

Draco let his eyes rake over the man's angry and shaking frame with a slow, easy smirk plastered onto his face, though his eyes were hard and attentive. He had his left hand in his pocket and the right hanging loosely at his side. His wand was nestled safely in the inner pocket of his jacket and it would be unlikely that he could get to it before the fiery redhead took a shot at him physically, but he kept the hand free just in case.

With a smooth movement, Draco automatically repositioned his body so that whatever fool thing the other man decided to do, he would be a barricade between it and the woman now at his back. "Now, now, Weasley, I'm just stating the facts."

"Facts. I'll give you facts-"

Ron's fist was half raised and Draco's hand was en route to his sheathed wand when Hermione wedged herself between the two men, a hand on each of their chests. Her presence brought hard gray and blue eyes down on her at once and she had a flashback to their first fistfight.

"ENOUGH, YOU TWO!" The witch growled.

"But 'Mione, he started it!"

"And I am ENDING it!" Hermione shoved both men as hard as she could, neither of them really budging from the force, but they dropped their hands in any case. "Are you men or are you boys?! I cannot believe that you two can not honestly function like grown adults in each other's presence. Ronald, you need to stop picking fights with him!"

"Yeah, Weasley, I was just minding my own-"

"And Draco! Stop egging him on! I know very well that you're doing this all on purpose. Were you or weren't you raised with some sense of poise and dignity? Your mother would be so embarrassed-"

"Leave my mother out of this-" The blonde growled.

**_"Then stop being such a fucking twat!"_**

Hermione yelled, her profanity echoing in the emptiness of the cafeteria and making both men look at her with more than a bit of shock. She felt the creeping flush trying to work its way into her cheeks but she pushed it away, choosing to latch onto her aggravation over anything else.

"Both of you have been behaving like bloody children! We're all _**bloody**_ adults here and if I don't hear something that resembles an apology from each of your idiot mouths, I will hex you both into next year! Do I make myself clear?!"

Draco and Ron shared an amazed look between the two of them and both looked at Hermione's petite frame. Her arms were crossed and her shoulders were bobbing in time with her angry huffs. Draco thought she resembled something like a bull, if he looked hard enough he might even see puffs of steam rolling from her nostrils.

Ron frowned and was the first to nod. "Right...you're right 'Mione," he looked to Draco with a deep grimace but presented him a large hand. "I'm...s...ry.."

Hermione snapped at him, "What was that, Ronald? I couldn't hear you."

The redhead cleared his throat several times, testing the words on his tongue again with a foul look of distaste when they finally came out at a more audible level, "I'm sorry...Malfoy."

Draco arched a brow, a smirk curling his lips at witnessing how easily cowed the Weasel was in the face of this witch. What a sad, pathetic excuse for a-

"_**Draco-**_"

The blonde flinched at the inflection in her voice and when he looked at her, he saw dangerous daggers being shot his way, full of the threat of her fury. Having had the unfortunate experience of being hit in the chaos of battle with some of her more aggressive hexes meant for Death Eaters that she loathed, Draco frowned. Was he really going to do this? He glanced at the witch again, her eyes narrowed and even from this distance he could see the gold in her eyes popping into existence the longer he postponed his response.

The blonde sighed and took Ron's hand in a firm shake, "I'm sorry as well, Weasley."

Hermione let her glare shift between them and when she was satisfied with the results, she turned back to her cold lunch and her disassembled bracelet. Gathering the little pieces into a cloth to tuck back in the satin pouch she was keeping it in, she spoke again through less clenched teeth, "I need to drop this back at my office...then we can go."

"You're actually going with him?!"

The woman rolled her eyes, so annoyed by this point she didn't even bother to answer. Hermione just hefted the bag in her hand and reached to pick up what was left of her food as well but was cut off by Draco, plucking the leftovers from her and smiling charmingly.

"I've got it, love. Meet you in my office?"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously but nodded. She spared one last glance to Ron and did manage to give him a small smile, to which he responded to immediately, "I'll see you when we get back, Ron. Thank you for at least letting me know you meant to come."

The redhead grinned, giving her a little wave, "Sure. Anytime."

Draco watched the exchange. It was innocent enough, he was sure after Granger's reaction to the Weasel on multiple occasions that she was truly done with any kind of romantic feelings she had for him...even if _he_ still harbored plenty. However, it hadn't occurred to him initially that his side contract drawn up with the witch would create the opportunity for her to pursue Weasley if they decided it was what they wanted to do. The realization of that sent stabbing pings of emotion prickling down his spine at the thought of her shacking up with the redhead.

Just one mental picture of Hermione looking so ravished, eyes glazed from a fresh orgasm, lips parted in a panting whisper of the name _'Ronald'_ on her lips instead of his own and he couldn't fight the violent sneer and wash of anger. The blonde waited until Hermione was well out of sight and out of earshot before he pushed roughly past the other man to the rubbish bin, earning a grunt and a scowl from the Auror. Draco deposited the leftovers into the bin and turned back to him, face cold and stony, devoid of all of his usual taunting humor.

He shoved a finger into Ron's chest and gave him his most dangerous glare, teeth bared like an animal defending its territory, "Hands off my wife, Weasel. This is your only warning."

Ron watched the blonde turn on his heel and stalk off in the direction of his office. He rubbed at the spot Draco jabbed, massaging the area with surprise plain on his face. If he didn't know any better, he would say that Draco Malfoy was _**jealous **_of _him,_ a Weasley, for claim over the witch so recently known as Hermione Granger. The witch who the blonde had been positive he'd hated for the better part of all their years knowing each other.

If anyone ever told him a day like this would come, he'd have slapped them silly.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello all! I know this one was a bit short, but it was just as weird and awkward to write as it probably was to read. This whole thing is a little bit of an exercise in silliness, but hopefully still entertaining. More than anything else, I wanted to mainly take this note to really say thank you for the influx of reviews for the last two chapters. I appreciate all the positive words and it's good to know that the naughty scenes aren't too corny. :) I'm very flattered at the number of people that read through the double chapter post of approximately 24k words total and reviewed within 24 hours of them both going up. Now you get to watch the stubborn and foolish avoidance of feelings progress into less stubborn and foolish avoidance of feelings. I will post as frequently as I can for you all, but at least once a week. Thanks again, all!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

* * *

_**_,.-'~'-.,_,.-'~'-.,_**_

_**Knowing You**_

_**-.,_,.-'~'-.,_,.-****-**_

"Reykjavík?"

Hermione was standing in the middle of the rented hotel room, arms out at her sides, a look bordering astonished and irate on her face staring hard at the few bags of belongings filling one corner of the room: hers and his alike.

"Yes."

"Iceland."

"Yes."

"We're in Iceland."

"Yes."

"What the hell, Malfoy?! I thought this was going to be a weekend trip!"

"I never said that."

"Wh—how long have you got this room for?!"

"A week."

"A WEEK?!"

"Yes. You should stop yelling, you're going to burst something."

Hermione sputtered, looking at her husband incredulously, mouth flapping like a fish out of water. "I can't be gone from work for a week."

"Point of fact, you can. Shacklebolt himself authorized it."

"You went behind my back to ask for time off?!"

"No, that would be Potter, actually."

"WHAT?!"

Draco stopped his unpacking of his belongings to turn and face the brunette witch who was looking at him with the most murderous intent. He'd packed everything he thought they'd both need for a week long trip while she was away at work and upon picking her up, Flooed them both directly to the wizarding hotel in the tourist city. It was expensive to arrange international clearance through the network, but he'd been working on it for the better part the last week. It was fortunate that this far removed from their hometown the people cared far less about the name attached to his money and more about its exchange rate.

He had no desire to deal with the fallout that would come from the masses learning of their situation, so Draco did what he often did when the going got rough and _bought_ himself some time. Even with reparation fines and fees to be considered, the Malfoy vaults were vast and still mostly full. With him working and on the up and up, doing what he could to restore some value to the name, he was not in danger of growing poor. Not yet anyway. The fines from neglecting to have a child down the line would start eating at things rather quickly, but he'd resolved to worry more about that when it cropped up.

Draco offered the witch a charismatic smile. "It seems I'm not the only one who thought you could use a holiday. Potter was surprisingly accommodating when I told him of the plan."

"You got my best friend to help you in this? Are you mad?! What did you do, blackmail him?"

The blonde snorted, "Not at all. I told you, I explained to him what I was doing and both him and the Potterette were happy to assist. Well...maybe not happy...but they thought it was a good idea. They seem to be the only portion of your daft friends that took any notice to the stagnation in your work-"

"Hey!"

"-and they agreed that some time away from the office would do you good."

Hermione frowned. Was it possible to feel betrayed when your friends banded together to send you on a vacation? She wasn't sure, but the idea that they could be so eager to pack her bags and send her off as a quick fix to solve the problem didn't settle well with her. "Why Iceland?" She asked at last.

Draco motioned her pouting self onto the edge of the hotel's large bed and returned to going through his half of the bags. "A few reasons. This will give us some time to avoid the tabloids blowing up-"

"Tabloids?"

He gave her a _look_ over his shoulder, "Have you forgotten about the insanity that is likely to follow in the wake of our announcement?"

Hermione blinked, "No, but I didn't think they were announcing the pairings. There are just too many to make any kind of press release about it."

"Granger, they don't have to announce it for people to find out. Everyone already knows the law is in effect and there are always people that want to know the ins and outs of other people's lives. High profile people. People like you and me. It's going to start at the office and you know that word carries like wildfire around there."

She frowned, "Sadly. It's like we work with a gaggle of hens." Hermione gave him a thoughtful look, "Or is it brood...whichever is more insulting. Gossips. They're all bloody gossips."

Draco chuckled but nodded, "Exactly. It'll start there and make it to public places...restaurants at lunch...streets in passing, and you know there are those nosing reporters always creeping about outside The Ministry trying to get the latest information."

"Yes, yes, yes," Hermione sighed heavily, irritatedly agreeing with his logic. "I suppose it's a good idea to take some time away from the inevitable explosion. Though I think _Iceland_ is a bit excessive!"

He ignored the last, "Right. You wouldn't be able to get a lick of work done anyway with how many reporters were trying to bombard you with questions."

"They're just going to be waiting for the both of us when we get back, you know."

The blonde shrugged, avoiding further discussion of the reporters, "There is another reason I wanted to come here. They opened a geothermal beach a couple of years back that I've been curious about. I've heard that the water around here is heated 'naturally' but I never got to see how it all actually worked without magic. I figured if nothing else, it would be a nice way to decompress since we _will_ have to deal with more than work upon our return."

Hermione blinked at him like he'd grown a second head, "How on earth did you find out about something like that? I didn't think you were one to keep up with events—non-local events, I mean." What she almost said was 'Muggle events'.

The witch had heard about the opening of this beach as well the year they officially announced it, the phenomenon of geothermal energy something truly amazing, but also very much a _Muggle_ thing. She didn't think for a second Draco would be at all interested in the goings-on of such things.

Draco stopped his unpacking for the second time and allowed his full attention to focus on her then, leaning against the edge of the hotel dresser while searching her for signs understanding. "You _do_ know what my job entails, don't you?"

The woman opened her mouth about to reply and then shut it again, realizing that she always just thought he holed away in his office looking at paperwork all day, much like what she did most of the time. With the way he was looking at her now though, she suspected she may have been mistaken. "I..well.."

The blonde grinned, "Oh HO! You _don't_, do you? I have to say, I'm surprised. Mark that at least two for things you don't know."

Hermione folded her arms and harrumphed, "Well it's not as though I have much cause to familiarize myself with what you do all day outside of approving my proposals."

Draco chuckled and went to the window, pulling open the curtains so she could get a splendid view of the coast where they were staying. He spoke wistfully, thinking of the times where he'd actually been able to travel for work and see different parts of the world.

"I've been out here a few times before. Granted, it doesn't happen often, but now and again they have me come out on site to look over the ingredients. Iceland has a lot of untouched areas where some of the rarer plants and herbs like to grow. I heard about the beach opening a year or so ago when I was working further north on the island and wanted to make it back out here but just hadn't had the chance. Not until now, anyway."

Looking over his shoulder again, he saw Hermione gazing not at the view but at him. It looked as though she'd been smiling at him but it vanished and she quickly changed her focus to the window, getting up to look as well. The witch feasted her eyes on the sight, watching the people gathering on the beach and in the lagoon not far from where they were staying.

Leaning on the sill, she sighed, "It does look rather beautiful."

"It does," Draco was looking at her while she still had her attention on the water.

A dark eyebrow rose as she noticed something in line with her earlier thoughts, "Draco, all of those buildings out there look decidedly...Muggle."

"They might be."

"But we took the Floo here..."

The blonde shrugged, "We did."

"So..."

"So?"

"So are we, or are we not, in a wizarding hotel?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"We might be-"

She blinked, fighting the smirk that was threatening to curve her lips at his playful glance. Sometimes he could be so odd. Hermione had to admit that he was easier to stand when his less full of maliciousness and his more innocently mischievous side decided to show. "You're being awfully evasive."

"Perhaps I am-"

"Draco!"

He chuckled and sat himself on the narrow windowsill. "We _are_ in a wizarding hotel, but the lines aren't so cleanly divided here like they are in London. At least not in the tourist portion of this place. Most of the telltale signs of magic are concealed deep within the hotel as a precaution. Once we step past the threshold of the front doors though, we might as well be in our quaint little neighborhood back home."

"_Really?_" Hermione sat next to him, giving him a once over with her smile finally breaking free of her tight control and tilting her mouth in a pleasant and infectious way. "Well that explains why you didn't throw as much of a fit as I thought you would when I said I wanted to live in a Muggle neighborhood."

"I've had a little exposure to it before.."

"I mean you were still a big bloody baby for the most part," she ignored the look he shot her, "But you weren't _nearly_ as dramatic as I thought you would be."

"Thanks ever so for the huge vote of confidence." Draco tried to hold his stern glare, but she was still grinning impishly and he couldn't maintain it. He reached over as if to pinch her cheek, a warm feeling settling in his stomach when she didn't jerk away like she had that morning and just swatted at him with a smile. "As much as I enjoy your constant jabs at my pride-"

"Anytime, poppet-"

He smirked, "-It's time for lunch."

"I already had lunch." Her smile faltered and she tilted her head to one side in confusion.

"Yes. I recall a disgusting, cold sandwich that didn't even have the decency to follow the basic rules of sandwich maths."

_'Do what?'_ Hermione narrowed her eyes as though that would make her hear the words correctly this time. "Sandwich...maths?"

"Sandwich maths," he stated confidently. "The proper process used to build a sandwich utilizing the correct dry to wet ratios." At her blank stare Draco rolled his eyes and explained further, illustrating his different points with very serious gestures. "For every dry ingredient, you have a wet that you use in an alternating pattern. Then in the center, you have a neutral binder. Like lettuce."

Hermione followed along with his mimed illustrations very intently, scoffing dismissively once he finished. "Lettuce? How is _lettuce_ neutral between dry and wet? It's roughly 94% water!"

"95%." He corrected.

"FURTHERMORE," she ignored him, waving her hand about, though the look in her eyes was full of amusement at the debate, "This whole concept sounds much more like a science of sorts than maths. I think you've erroneously labeled it."

Draco held up his hands in a halting fashion, "Hey, I don't make the rules, Granger. Also, 'sandwich science' sounds far too presumptuous. 'Sandwich maths' is much better."

Had he gone insane or was it just the pressure of work finally driving him to the loony bin? So little made any sense right now, especially as of late. Hermione chuckled and shook her head, "Be that as it may...I already ate."

"Please," it was his turn to scoff, "You barely took three bites. Probably because it was so bloody awful."

"It wasn't!"

Draco leaned closer to her with a particularly smug look plastered all over his face. "I _also_ know for a fact that you didn't take any breakfast with you. I was there this morning, if you recall."

"Unfortunately," Hermione had her arms folded across her chest again but there was nothing but humor lacing the single word.

He leaned closer still, his voice lowering conspiratorially, eyes scanning over her in a way of appraisal, "And unless you stopped somewhere on the way to the office – _highly_ unlikely – I would venture a guess and say that, aside from the few bites of that stale looking disaster I threw out, you're running on three, maybe four, cups of coffee and a couple dozen of those unpleasant little butterscotch discs you keep at your desk."

She blushed and looked at him in shock, "Am not!" She was.

Draco's hand crept up towards the side of her cheek on its own, the backs of his knuckles about to brush over the skin until he caught himself and moved it past her to press against the windowpane instead. He covered the move fluidly, giving her a well trained smirk. "Tsk tsk tsk. Now don't make me steal a taste and peg you for a liar. I hate butterscotch."

"Calling me a liar, is that the only thing that would make you want a taste?" Her eyes went round at the sassy reply. _'Where the hell did that come from?' _It was like she was channeling Ginny.

Her words surprised the both of them, Draco's eyebrows raising high on his forehead. His gaze dipped down to her mouth, his tongue curling against his teeth as she tugged her lip between hers. "Not at all," Draco mumbled, "I could think of several other things actually."

Hermione's fingers danced over the buttons of his shirt, fiddling with them shyly as the boldness of her previous question fizzled out under his intense gray stare. Hermione could feel him closing the distance between them, his closeness sending her hormones spiraling out of control just like before. It was a battle of wills between her brain and her...parts very far south of her brain.

Hermione didn't do well with losing control, certainly not over her baser, primal urges. She'd worked so hard over her short life to get to where she was with her intellect and wit and with the simplest touch he could ruin it all, nearly making her forget her own bloody name. This man who, up until very recently, lived to be nothing more than a prominent pain in the bum, plucking at every single one of her defenses as arrogantly and aggressively as he could manage, finally broke through with the very last things she ever expected him to show her: kindness and honesty.

They weren't delivered in the same way that any _normal_ person would, of course.

He'd showed her his kindness and honesty in the same arrogant, aggressive, and brutal manner that he did everything in regards to her – it was what they understood, the only way they knew how to dance without stepping on each other's toes. He offered them with a smirk on his lips and a swagger in his step...but in just a manner of weeks, she found that the difference between experiencing Draco Malfoy while _within_ his personal circle of acceptance versus _outside_ of it, a stark and dramatic one.

Draco's nose brushed over hers, his breath blowing across her lips, spreading tingles over the sensitive flesh. Hermione gasped when she felt his front lean in with the rest of him, ready to steal a kiss. In a sudden and startling movement, she planted both hands firmly on his chest to stop whatever was about to happen.

Hermione's voice came out so breathlessly she wanted to smack herself, "Lunch. You said something about lunch."

The blonde arched an eyebrow, his face still close, but she had her head turned to the side as though she was looking out to the water. Her chest and shoulders where rising and falling hurriedly and she was still nibbling at her lip in a way that made him want to take over for her. If it were anyone else, he would've been offended, but it was Granger. It was _always_ Granger, that was the exception to the rule...every rule. For someone that would abide by them so stringently, she was a terrible influence on him to break all of his.

"Lunch," he repeated, confirming the plans and pushing back upright. Draco retreated smoothly to allow her to refill her space bubble around her until she was comfortable.

Hermione cleared her throat, smoothing her hair and lightly rumpled work clothes before making a rather determined amount of eye contact with the blonde. Just because she had one stupidly fantastic night with the man didn't give her the excuse to go acting like a blubbering idiot about it. She was a grown woman, not some impressionable schoolgirl. It likely didn't mean anything to him anyway and she wouldn't be pegged a fool for throwing herself after a rumoured womanizer...even if he happened to be her husband. Semantics. How on earth did she get into these situations?

"Right. Just going to freshen up and we can go." The woman gave him a firm nod and disappeared behind the door to the loo.

The moment she was gone from sight, Draco took a seat on the nearest flat surface, exhaling heavily.

Control.

Years spent in practice, perfecting his debonair demeanor and ladykiller image for the masses. His tongue and wit were sharp as swords and always at his disposal – except when she was around. She flustered him and his intent, driving him to brashness and recklessness in things he never would consider otherwise.

He needed to maintain _control_.

It was just so difficult when she always looked as good as she did...and now that he knew she felt just as delightful...

"Draco? Ready to go?"

His blonde head snapped up, pulling him from his internal struggle. She'd pulled her hair up and back so it was still a frizzy mess but now it was a frizzy mess behind her and off her shoulders. Her blouse was re-tucked neatly into the waist of her navy pencil skirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her matching, sensibly heeled navy shoes made her the picture of messy perfection. The sight of her practical business attire was one he was used to seeing regularly, but he never recalled it revealing as much neck or leg as it did now...or maybe he'd just never noticed before. He started to wonder what exactly she did to get rid of all the dark markings he'd left on her when she called to him again.

Draco stashed the errant thoughts away for later and his feet were moving him automatically to join her side, "Yeah, let's go."

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Draco was watching Hermione staring intensely at her menu. She'd been looking so fiercely at it, he thought it may burst into flames at any moment. Meanwhile, he was sipping a glass of water and just enjoying the show.

The cafe they went to dine at was a charming little place on a hill with huge windows that let in the daylight. The time was shortly after noon so it wasn't as busy as it usually would be and made for a nice, easy atmosphere for the couple to have a chat. On the handful of times he'd been out this way, Draco made sure to visit the shop as much as possible, for their selection and service was most excellent. While his trips weren't as often as he'd like and the stays only lasted a week at best each time, he'd frequented this particular cafe enough during his times there that the owners and some of the older staff remembered him.

The daily menu offered a plethora of choices and local delights: freshly baked bread and pastries, sandwiches, salads, regional teas, everything quaint and cute all the way down to delicious desserts and hot cocoa. The only real problem was, despite being near a city that attracted so many tourists, the staff was non-English speaking along with the written menu. Or at least if they spoke English – or any other language for that matter – they didn't acknowledge the fact to the general public. Draco suspected that Hermione could speak, read, and write at least a few languages outside of their native tongue – she _was_ still a know-it-all – but judging by the look on her face, Icelandic wasn't one of them.

The seating of the cafe was open, so Draco simply had grabbed her a menu to peruse and himself a cup of water while he waited. She hadn't looked up once yet to ask him for help and while he was enjoying the amusing sight of her brows drawing together and lips pursing in concentration with each attempt at deciphering the text, he was starting to become more than a little hungry.

"Granger.."

She peered at him over the top of the laminated paper.

"Would you like some assistance?"

Her eyes darted back down to the ink on the page, "Not particularly, no."

Draco grinned, "Well love, as hilarious as it always is to watch you bang your head against something relentlessly, I'm famished."

"Well why don't you go use some of that fancy _sandwich maths_ to go fix yourself a snack then," she retorted snappily.

Chuckling, the blonde tugged the menu out of her hands, earning him a dark look. He ignored it and swung his chair around nearby to sit on her side of the two-seater table, reproducing the list of food items in front of her. "In the mood for anything in particular?"

Hermione stiffened at his nearness, doing her best not to scoot away in an obvious fashion. "Going back to work," she muttered earning her an eye roll.

The witch was mildly familiar with the speech for some of the nearby Scandinavian countries, though her knowledge was elementary at best. Her memory of the spoken word was dusty and the written even worse and she was quickly finding out that while they shared some similarities, what she was looking at was vastly different from anything she knew. She had been trying to feel her way through the menu as best she could before asking Draco for anything since he apparently had no trouble at all. She could make out some of the items more obviously listed and the few pictures helped, but for the most part she was floating in a sea of unfamiliarity and was growing more and more irritated by the minute because of it. Leave it to Malfoy to bring her to a place so laden with tourists and take her to the one cafe that _only_ speaks the local language.

Hermione suspected that he did it on purpose and gave him a silent glare.

Draco guided his hand over the words and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "The paninis are very good here."

"They adhere to your ridiculous dry to wet ratio rules?" She snarked.

"They get a pass on the rules, they're tasty enough." Without waiting for her permission, Draco casually rattled off the different sandwiches, pointing to each listing and translating. "Kjúklingur – chicken, skinka – ham, kalkúnn-"

Hermione followed his finger with her eyes, face contorted in frustration until the last word. It sparked something in her memory and she piped up before he could finish with an odd eagerness, "Kalkon!" The woman repeated the word, though it came out with a different intonation, "Turkey! Is that turkey?"

The blonde smirked with a raised brow, "Maybe."

The woman jolted upright and smacked one hand against the other in small celebration. "Ha! A-ha! I knew it!" She was grinning broadly and so immersed in her victory for those few moments that she forgot about the wizard at her side who was now fighting back a laugh. "That," she cleared her throat and settled back into her chair, pointing to the item on the menu. "I'll have that."

"You're sure?" He teased, "I could read more of it to you, see what other things on the menu get you so excited. There's some salami here that's quite delicious as well, or so I've heard."

Hermione made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, thinking she'd preferred their awkwardness this morning to the return of this innuendo. "No. The..._k__alkúnn_ panini, is fine." She said sternly, fumbling over the pronunciation.

The blonde nodded with his infuriating smirk still plastered onto his face and rose to walk to the nearby counter and place their orders.

While he was gone, Hermione nudged his seat back to the other side of the table, pushing it by the legs with her feet, trying to be as stealthy about it as possible. She rested her chin in a palm, staring at the back of Malfoy's blonde head to watch the exchange between him and the male clerk and maybe listen in a bit as well. She knew she'd agreed to him paying for practically everything in the contract, but it still ruffled her feathers. If she hadn't have been escorted there so suddenly, she would have seen fit to exchange currency so she could at least put up a fight over the issue.

In the midst of her silent complaints and attempt to decipher their conversation, the chair caught one of the table legs and screeched obnoxiously over the tile. Hermione winced and blushed at the subsequent stares she received from both Draco and the man behind the register. Clearing her throat, Hermione turned back to the empty spot in front of her before feeling the hair on the back of her neck prickle; she had the sneaking suspicion that the conversation had now shifted from food to _her_. Sure enough when the witch peeked back over her shoulder, the clerk and Draco both were looking in her direction.

At least the other man had the decency to avert his eyes once he'd been caught, Draco's grin just widened.

_'Arrogant arse.'_ Hermione turned her focus forward again while waiting for the wizard to return.

She was agitated, that much was obvious, she just couldn't discern exactly why. Hermione had so much work to do and catch up on, she hadn't been prepared to randomly go away for a _week_. She didn't even pack her own bags! How on earth did he know what she would and wouldn't need? She hadn't even gotten that far yet in yelling at him back at the room. It was insanity that she even agreed to come with him straight over in the first place...

In her gut, though, she knew that the suddenness wasn't what was really bothering her. The fact that, aside from their near slip back in the room, everything was getting back to normal between the two of them as discussed before was doing its very best to sour her mood.

A very _loud_ part of her was shouting that he shouldn't be able to ease back into their old routine so quickly, not after what they did. But that was exactly what they'd agreed upon then, wasn't it? That they _would _just go back to their routine afterward. What really changed last night anyway? They had sex. That was all. Just sex. Except that it wasn't just sex, not for her. It was most definitely something else, something that she loathed to consider may have sparked and started days ago. The idea of _that_ sent her mind into a spin.

Draco interrupted her thoughts before they spiraled too far into her displeasure, reappearing and placing a cup of tea in front of her. He sat himself across from her with his own cup, still grinning – his mirth made her bristle immediately.

Without preamble she grumped, "You were talking about me."

"I simply answered some questions."

"It's very rude to talk about me when I can't understand it, you know." Hermione huffed, folding her arms and turning her head to the side.

"You apparently understood enough to know we were talking about you."

She blushed and sent him a glare, though he was just coolly sipping his drink and met her eyes over the rim of his cup. Her jaw twitched, "What did you say?"

Draco took another long sip and looked her over. She looked mad. More than that, the pinch around her eyes led him to believe that she was worried, self-conscious perhaps. He leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him, bumping one of her chair's legs with the move but he just settled them next to it crossed at the ankles. "He asked me what I was doing here with such a pretty girl."

Hermione frowned, "As if I believe that."

"You're right," he conceded with a shrug, "He asked me what I was doing here with such a _beautiful_ girl."

Suddenly finding the liquid in front of her extremely important she mumbled, "Come now, have they never seen you come in with a woman before?"

"No." The one word was deadpanned, completely serious and without a hint of teasing but she still didn't stop studying the inside of her cup. "I've only ever come here while on business trips before and I've only ever come here alone."

Hermione did look at him then, rather skeptically at that. "So you mean you've never even brought Astoria with you on an outing? Not once?"

"_Business_ trips, Granger, not pleasure." He frowned and added, "Not that the latter would be an accurate description of a date with Tori."

"Draco, that's mean!" Hermione chastised him, suppressing a smile. It wasn't that she disliked the young Greengrass per se, but there was something inherently flattering about being someone's preferred company. He _did_ bring her along with him instead of just disappearing on his own like he could have after they completed their 'duties', after all. Blinking back down at her drink she picked at a chip near the edge of the saucer, "So...what did you tell him?"

Draco smirked at her not-so-subtle fishing, "I told him that I'm trying to get in good with my wife so she'll stop yelling at me for taking her away from work."

The witch laughed, more a surprised exhale of a chuckle than anything. "You did not!"

He shook his head, chuckling as well, "I should have." Draco felt a wash of calm when he could see her smile lingering and the tightness of her posture lessen. "I told him the truth."

The witch didn't say anything to that, simply nodded, still focusing on her tea. She brought the cup to her lips somewhere around the same time Draco felt a very slight pressure against his calf. He wrinkled his brow at first, but when she caught his stare from across the table, he couldn't help the surprise on his face. Sure enough when he glanced beneath the tabletop her foot was shyly pressing against his leg.

In response, Draco nudged her back playfully, "I can't be sure – it happens so rarely, y'see – but I think you're almost tolerable when you're not screaming at me."

Hermione hummed softly to herself, setting the teacup back down and resting her chin atop folded hands. "Hmm, that's funny because you're consistently insufferable regardless of your dramatically fluctuating disposition."

The blonde laughed and nudged her more firmly, almost a kick. "Dramatically fluc-Merlin, you're such a bitch!" The words lacked their typical bite.

She shrugged unapologetically, "_You_ married me."

It took him a moment to register the joke; the joke about something she'd been quite passionately upset about from day one. He searched her for any signs of anxiety or apprehension about it but found only the steady pressure of her foot as an answer. Draco nodded sagely, daring to reach across the table to take one of her hands and rub his thumb over her knuckles. The skin was just as soft as he could recall.

"Right, sorry. You're _my_ bitch."

Hermione snorted, yanking her hand from him and smacking the back of the one that held hers just seconds ago. "Git."

"Hello!"

Hermione jumped and yelped at the sudden greeting. She turned brown eyes up to a tall man holding two plates of food. The man seemed older than her by a bit, maybe in his late 20's or early 30's, fair skinned, blonde, and his bright blue eyes sparkled joyously, doing well to accent his huge smile. "Uh, hello."

If possible, the man's smile grew. He spoke again in heavily accented English, "I am Tómas."

The witch blinked and looked to Draco who just looked amused.

"You are very pretty!"

"Th-thank you," she offered Tómas a polite smile. He returned it enthusiastically, nodding as he set the plates down. She ignored the way Draco was just sitting back and enjoying the strangeness now hanging in the air. Hermione inspected Tómas casually, noting the cloth draped over one of his shoulders and a long apron tied around his waist that had several smudges of food all along the front of it. She replaced her proper smile with a more earnest one, "Are you the chef?"

The man's smile faltered. He looked over at Draco who raised an eyebrow but eventually translated her question. Tómas' eyes brightened again and he turned back to Hermione, nodding with the same enthusiasm from before, "Yes!" He added after a moment's thought, "You like coffee?"

Hermione looked confused at the question as she still quite obviously had tea in front of her, but before she answered, Draco hissed something and swatted at the man. It was easy enough to be in jest but there was a hint of something serious to it. She was even more confused when Draco took up her left hand suddenly and tilted it towards Tómas. Hermione glanced to the wizard questioningly and in seeing the look directed towards the other man, she understood.

The topic of women had come up a long time back during Draco's second week long stay in the area and his repeated visits to the cafe for breakfast, lunch, and dinner as much as possible. The chef had struck up a conversation with him on one of their slower days, asking teasingly why he always ordered the same thing and never tried anything new. Draco had answered him in his rocky Icelandic with as politely snide a tone as he could manage. Tómas, being a rather odd individual, thought the honesty and his poor intonation hilarious and refreshing – he took a liking to Draco immediately. It became a reprieve from both of their jobs, having meaningless discussions and trading language over a cup of coffee or tea.

On more than one occasion, Draco had helped Tómas in his efforts of charming a cute tourist who'd wandered into the shop and being a most excellent wingman for no other reason than the sheer amusement. He would help them with the menu, much as he'd done with Hermione, and pave the way for the chef to make his entry. Tómas knew just enough to lure the women in with pretty words in his native accent and had said he'd _feel_ out the rest. Draco hadn't thought for a second the chef would try his act on _his_ witch, but then he supposed he should've known better.

Hermione watched the pair's exchange. Tómas looked shocked, saying something that made a rare blush redden Malfoy's cheeks and the resounding laugh that followed was most definitely at his expense. The chef grinned and patted Draco on the back, mumbling something that made the smallest smirk resurface. His gray eyes caught brown, lingering there until Hermione tilted her head to one side curiously, then he gave Tómas a nod, agreeing with whatever the man had said.

The chef turned to resume his duties, but not before offering his hand to Hermione who took it gingerly. Tómas gave it one firm shake and covered it with his other, giving her a pat of congratulations as he did to Draco. "Good to meet you, wife of Drah-co!"

Hermione smiled at the odd pronunciation of his name, nodded, and waved once she was free again and Tómas was on his way back to the kitchen. She waited until he was gone from sight before she turned back to the wizard who was staring at the swinging kitchen doors with a bit of a glare. "What was that all about?"

"He was practicing his English...and trying to ask you out," Draco groused.

The brunette rolled her eyes, "I gathered that much. What was it he said to you?" Hermione was very interested in knowing what the chef could possibly have said to embarrass the man across the way, though she doubted he would so willingly share.

As expected, Draco wasn't keen on filling her in and opted to begin digging in to his sandwich instead. Hermione sighed at his silence but forced herself to let it go for the moment. They weren't even through the first day of the week long vacation and for whatever reason, she actually trusted him to tell her if it was something she truly needed to know. Beyond that, the delicious aroma wafting up from the plate in front of her was heavenly and made her stomach muscles twinge; butterscotch candy and double espressos really weren't all that filling after all.

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Hermione finished fastening her trainers over her feet, flexing her toes in the shoes and allowing herself a moment to enjoy the comfort offered; her work flats were nice but still not as comfy as these. After a relatively calm lunch – the silence that lingered not wholly uncomfortable and only occasionally having been broken by a snarky quip here and there – the pair returned to the hotel room so Hermione could get changed into something more suitable for walking in.

Draco already had plans for his evening and the witch decided that since he made her venture all the way out here that she would invite herself along on his walk; he didn't seem to mind though he didn't admit to it directly. The blonde warned her that he was going to be wandering about the town and taking in some sights so if she wanted to follow, she may want to change because he wouldn't slow his pace on her account. Hermione, of course gave him an agitated reply, but not one to be cooped up in a foreign hotel with the inability to translate the language if the need should arise, she dug through the bags he'd packed for her and found some suitable clothing to change into.

Truth be told, she was surprised at how thoroughly he packed. She didn't expect the results of his rushed efforts to be so comprehensive. Part of her wondered if he just shrunk everything and relocated it from their new dresser back into her suitcases and bags, but it seemed more meticulous than that.

Hermione found that she had quite the array of occasions covered with the items he brought along, he even packed her jewelry case and toiletries. Part of her wondered if he had more assistance than just moral support from Harry and Ginny...namely Ginny. When she thought of Malfoy handling her unmentionables, she did herself a favor and went ahead and assumed that the redhead had helped with that bit.

Pushing to her feet again, Hermione made her way to the room's bathroom, peering around the open door. "Malfoy? I'm ready."

The blonde looked over his shoulder, nodded, and turned back to the task of unpacking his toothpaste and brush along with some very expensive looking bottles and vials for various facets of personal care. Hermione scrunched her face at all the products emerging from his small bag.

Hermione's foul look didn't go unnoticed by him and he caught her eyes in the mirror, "Something the matter?"

"I just had a flashback to all the rubbish Ginny insisted on saturating my head in for the wedding."

Draco snorted. "Traumatized, Granger?"

"A bit," she replied with a grimace.

Thinking nothing of it, Hermione invited herself into the small bathroom and took a seat on the edge of the tub while he sorted through his belongings. When her parents still knew who she was and were still around, she would sometimes engage in idle chatter with her father while he would shave or pack his things for his business trips. To this day, she still wasn't entirely sure what happened at a "dentist's conference" but she'd been so busy herself most of the time that she never really thought to ask. The memory brought a painful pang of regret to her chest and she felt the pressing need to fill the silence with conversation.

"Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

"Calling you what?" He asked, still going about his business, sorting his things.

"Granger."

His reply was distracted and automatic, "It's your name isn't it?"

Draco realized what he'd said as soon as it finished leaving his mouth and he raised his eyes to see her giving him an incredulous look in the mirror. The blonde shook his head, hands coming away from his task. He turned around and leaned against the counter to face her, now expectant, expression.

"I suppose it's not..." Draco answered his own question in a sheepish tone, but the words of apology never actually formed fully on his tongue. "What would you have me call you instead then? Sweetheart? Honey? Darling? _'Mione?"_ He mimicked Ron's speech for effect.

Hermione gagged at the final suggestion, "Heavens no, anything but that!"

"_Anything_?" He said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Her own narrowed in response, "You could try my _actual_ name, you know."

He looked thoughtful and somewhat apprehensive. Draco was avoiding addressing her by her first name as much as possible. He'd done a bang up job of it for the most part until yesterday when, like everything else, all his plans went to pot.

"_Hermione_," he said as blandly as possible, though it came out at a lower, huskier pitch than intended. Each syllable tasted divine on his tongue, like a forbidden fruit. It was a name that was too off limits for him to utter in school and too informal for him to use at work, but now, in light of everything, maybe he could... "I don't like it," he said suddenly.

The witch shot to her feet and gaped at him, shock and offense evident on her face. "What do you mean you don't like it? It's my _name_, you dolt. You can't just say you don't like it!"

"I prefer the former. _Hermione_ is just too-" A blurry memory of him cumming violently inside of the woman in front of him while murmuring that very name over and over between peppered kisses to her skin, along with every twitch of his cock in a loss of control he hadn't anticipated, surfaced at the sound of it aloud. Draco cleared his throat, "-too intimate." He frowned at the truthful excuse. It was like the woman had a suave dampening zone...he'd never faltered so much in his not-quite-lies before having to hang around her at work and it'd only seemed to get worse with further exposure.

"_Too_ _intimate_?" Hermione blinked at the man several times in disbelief. She flailed and addressed him in a most animated fashion, "For heaven's sake, Malfoy! How can saying my name be too intimate when just yesterday we-"

Hermione froze mid-sentence, barely remembering their deal. Her brown eyes were wide and looking to see if he noticed. Judging by the look in his own, he did. The witch tried to pointedly ignore that look...she'd seen it at least _twice_ yesterday and both times had led to something that would've been scandalous under any other situation.

Draco's tongue came out to wet his lips of its own volition. With as much as he'd already been thinking of her today, he was sure he was going to be the first to crack. It didn't help when Tómas had so kindly asked in wonder what kind of miracle could get the self-proclaimed lone wolf to marry, followed by an unsavory comment about what she must be doing for him to get him to buckle. Then came the comment of him being lucky to find someone willing to put up with all of his bullshit. He couldn't explain the intricacies of the situation to Tómas, but his observation made him think, at least for the briefest of moments, that it would've been nice if that were the way of things.

Since that surprise at lunch he'd been pushing and pulling his thoughts around as much as possible, doing everything he could to avoid actively replaying things, and not just from last night. The whole of the day and before that still had him buzzing with a strange sense of satisfaction. It was energizing, exhilarating, and for Draco, made every moment they spent alone together dangerous.

Draco's fingers twitched, wanting to just reach out and touchher like he'd been wanting to do again all day. Not a nudge of the foot, not a glancing brush of fingers, he wanted to _touch her_. The urge to mess up her neatly pulled back hair for the sheer pleasure of aggravating her as well as feeling the silk between his fingers was a prominent one. The sensory memory of her body, currently clad in a very flattering pair of Muggle jeans and top, pressed eagerly against him made him want to make use of the bed and have her again. He wanted to explore her more thoroughly than she'd allowed before at the guidance of her hand. The notion of tasting her there to compare the different flavors between both sets of lips had his blood pumping.

His hands twitched again and he had to issue more than a little restraint to keep them to himself, asking smoothly, "We what?"

"W-w-we," Hermione cleared her throat as well and finished quickly, "We got married. What could possibly be more intimate than that?" The hurried way she muttered the words did little to help the heat creeping into her limbs. She regretted the phrasing of the question immediately, the smoldering heat in Draco's eyes lessening, but just so.

"Is that all that happened?" He pressed, not sure when he moved closer to where she stood, but he could feel the heat radiating off her body now. Draco still didn't dare to make contact, not until she at least made some move to open that door. He wouldn't be the one to break the terms of their bargain, not when he's the one that suggested it.

Hermione gulped, looking up at him, thinking it funny how surprised she still seemed to be at his height despite knowing him as long as she had and being around him often enough. He was looking her over, he'd held her eyes for a second but they quickly pulled away to scan over her features. They trailed down to her lips, her chin, her jaw, down her neck, lingering there longer than the other places before moving downwards and taking in an appreciative look of her breasts and hips to eventually circle back to her face. It was in that intense stare, that scrutiny by his lust filled eyes, that brought her resolve back to the surface.

When she saw him drinking her in, she saw a look of hunger, something primal and driven by what she expected was merely physical. It had to be, what with their history and all. What happened last night wasn't just sex for her. Try as she might, Hermione was too emotionally invested in everything that she did to come out of it without some kind of residual _something_. She wasn't sure what it was that was lingering in her and sparking to life for the man who looked like he wanted to devour her right then and there, but it was _**something**_. Perhaps it was purely physical on her end too, but then all the more reason to stick by their deal and stop it; she was _not_ that kind of girl.

"Yes," Hermione uttered breathlessly.

The corners of her mouth twitched in resistance to the word that shattered the moment yet again. She couldn't, she just _couldn't_ allow anything else to happen until she truly understood his intentions in this aspect of their relationship and she needed to remember that! Hermione's head and her heart went hand in hand, charging forward in most of her decisions together with gusto; she'd been doing just fine with those two until her physical needs were introduced into the mix. Now, she was quickly finding that the three of these things together were having decidedly inharmonious relations, especially when _he_ was just right _**there**_.

The smoky tint to Draco's eyes cleared slowly, the realization of what she said knocking on his skull and spreading through his limbs with great resistance. He wanted to sneer, or yell, or insult her for being so stubborn, but he didn't. He couldn't rightfully do that when he was making no real move to break the barrier either. At least that's what he repeated to himself in his head while asking all deities real or imagined for patience; patience and for her not to look down because he wasn't very sure what he would do or say if she acknowledged_ that_ when memories of her dulcet cries still echoed around in his head.

What was it about her? She was attractive, yes, but not more so than Astoria or the handful of women he'd taken to bed. Certainly not more so than some of the ones he'd turned down for being absolutely batshit crazy. Was it because she'd been so untouchable? Poetic, that's what Blaise had said. Poetic that someone of his heritage and upbringing would ever be with one of hers, his opposite in every way. Except she really wasn't, just in ways that never mattered...ways that he was raised to think would.

Maybe it was her passion; that relentless passion she poured into everything. There was no way for him to truly anticipate how their evening would have gone. It was just part of their business arrangement and meant to be as easy and painless as possible. Never once did he think he would have been surprised. Of course one seldom expects a surprise, as is the nature of such a thing, but nevertheless, he didn't.

The trust she put in him as she taught him her body spoke volumes. The urgency in which she beckoned for him, as though she really needed him – _**him**_ – to satisfy her needs made him so eager to please. The way that she clung and clawed and writhed for him, lucid enough to know for certain whose name fell from her lips with each plea for him to keep moving, it made him crazy. It made him want to obey her bossy charge for once. No woman he'd been with had ever been so passionate in his embrace. They'd always known what they wanted from him and they knew his terms and were quite alright with basic physical relief when it came to sex. Even Pansy, who was convinced she was in love with him, was fairly lackluster in bed.

Leave it to Hermione to be different. She always had to be different. She never tried to be, she just _was_. Perhaps that was part of the appeal. Whatever it was had begun to burrow into him and he wanted it again. He craved more of the woman who'd ripped his back to shreds, the fiery spirit so free of her bonds within the sanctuary of their room that he'd caught glimpses of before. He thought it was the same woman he brought to the surface whenever he would incite her anger, and he did so enjoy doing that. That woman suited her better than the one that wore this tepid shell of propriety. That woman was _his. _He'd perfected the art of freeing her and he thought she looked best when she was free.

Draco bit back everything that he wanted to say. Too much. Too fast. They were just going into their first afternoon of day one of seven, he needed to _maintain control_. The blonde nodded, "Alright."

They exchanged a silent look, neither moving for several heartbeats and then finally Draco made to lead the way out with the intention of not returning until he was so exhausted that he couldn't even think about the woman sharing his bed. It wasn't a surefire way to avoid any more lapses in his restraint, but it might help anyway.

What would his ancestors think of him, then? Lusting after a Mudblood...

To hell with them. They were all dead anyway.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

* * *

_**_,.-'~'-.,_,.-'~'-.,_**_

_**Knowing You**_

_**-.,_,.-'~'-.,_,.-****-**_

Draco strolled along the road, Hermione at his back, nose down as she flipped through an English language programme of the museum they'd just come from. She was supremely adept at avoiding rocks and mounds that would trip up the most agile of people when paying attention...but only if her head was tilted down and completely immersed in her reading. It was in a way so reminiscent of their school days.

Sunset was quickly approaching, chasing the couple on their walk back after their visit to the building full of work by the esteemed Einar Jónsson. Draco led the way back to the hotel, or at least far enough to enjoy the rest of the scenery and then Apparate safely the rest of the way. He'd intended on the walk to consume much of their evening but he had to admit that even he was getting a bit tired from hoofing it all around town. This was the last stop of the evening anyway.

They wasted enough time perusing the street shops earlier in the afternoon where several times he watched Hermione resist the pull of the sweets and ice cream being offered on the strip until he finally purchased a small brick of chocolate and split it with her. She protested at first, but only out of propriety, he could see her eyes glitter with want at the sugary treat and in a way it made his frustration with her better and worse.

Draco was still doing what he could to ignore the enigmatic pull she had, the way her mere presence kept invading his mind to stir up the most unsavory thoughts that urged him to act, yet at the same time, he couldn't ignore the way her face lit up with childish glee over the simplest things and the resulting things it did to _him_. This woman never stopped holding his attention for the strangest reasons. Hermione spent so much of her time learning and studying and working on how to be proficient in everything, when she allowed these simple pleasures to visibly affect her, it was positively striking. He couldn't help but smile every time.

Between treating her to sweets as stealthily as possible and the outright purchasing of some literature about the local people, history, and a decent primer for the language to keep her busy later, and then walking around town with her, it almost felt like a _date __–_ as much of a date as one could have with such an introvert, anyway.

Draco pondered over that concept as they walked along a path framed by shrubberies. The idea of dating your spouse after being married, it struck him funny at first. He'd done what, according to his best mate, many a man had dreamed of: he married and shagged Hermione Granger, all without even having to do the legwork of getting her to like him first.

That's the part that brought him back to the statement Tómas made from before.

Hermione put up with his bullshit often, though it was very much less than willingly. There wasn't a day that he could remember since meeting the woman where she'd come to see him for anything of her own accord. There was always a need, a pretense, something business related that had to be done. In school it was assignments or Prefect duties, at work it was proposals or this most recent marriage foolishness. It wouldn't have bothered him as much as it was starting to if he didn't realize that he'd started seeking her out first a _long_ time ago.

From her very first response to his teasing and prodding he was hooked. He enjoyed every visceral reaction, even being slapped in the face the once; it was exciting and amusing, and on a slow day – before the whole crazy Wizarding War thing – he would walk the halls with the barest of hopes of turning the corner and bumping shoulders with the ever untouchable Hermione Granger on her way to or from classes. She'd become a staple of his routine somewhere along the way and he'd never even noticed until now. Between dealing with all that he put her through, and on several of those occasions also having to deal with her idiot friends, Potty and Weasel, he was surprised that she hadn't blown her lid much sooner. The woman's patience must have been immeasurable.

Draco glanced over his shoulder, smirking at the way she twisted around a sign post to avoid collision, focus still securely fastened on the article she was reading. The blonde slowed his steps, coming up on the last thing he'd wanted to see before they tucked in for the night, and stopped. He must not have made enough noise to alert her because with a very solid pace for her stride she finally slammed dead on into his back. She wasn't going fast enough to hurt herself, but her startled yelp was a clear indication of her surprise and she stumbled backwards.

With ease, Draco's arms shot out to grab hold of her just below the shoulders and yank her back upright. Reflexively she braced her hands on him wherever they landed, the one still gripping the programme managed to smack him in the face with the glossy pages on the way to grasp at his shoulder and the other with her bag of books looped over one forearm came to scramble for a handhold at his stomach or hip; though not before the bag swung itself forward and connected solidly with his crotch.

The blonde grunted in pain, forgetting his natural attempt at chivalry and releasing his hold on her to cup himself. Stars burst behind his eyelids in time with the sharp, then throbbing, pain. Draco fought off a wave of nausea and blew out a breath through his teeth with a choked cough. "_Fuck, _Granger-"

"OH! Malfoy, I'm sorry! Shit, I'm so sorry!" Hermione squeaked from behind her hands covering her mouth, open in a gasp with eyes wide. "A-are you alright?" When he didn't answer immediately and just remained bent over, one hand cupping his crotch and the other bracing his stance on his knee breathing slowly through his nose, Hermione placed a hand very lightly on his back. "Draco?..Draco are you okay?"

Draco grunted again, "Fine...'m fine..." The wizard took a few more deep breaths, silently thanking anyone who would listen for the fact that it was getting late and there weren't many spectators about to witness such a scene. Cracking open an eye, Draco glanced about to get his bearings on his surroundings. Spotting a bench close by, he began gingerly stepping to it, doing his best to walk without aggravating his recently injured nether bits.

The man eased himself onto the seat, wincing when his balls brushed against it but settling himself easily enough. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the witch still standing in her same spot. Where she was previously covering her mouth looking horribly shocked and guilty, she was now covering it to hide a growing grin; at least he guessed that's what was happening if her shaking shoulders and the laughter twinkling in her eyes was any sign.

"I'm glad you find my pain so funny, woman. I don't recall buying you a fucking cement brick," he grumbled with a sneer, dropping all formalities and blatantly adjusting himself in front of her. "Did you sneak Hogwarts: A History in that damn bag?"

Hermione's laughter finally bubbled over, a giddy noise of giggles and snorts at his expense that only served to darken his scowl. "Sorry—so sorry, Malfoy," she managed between bouts of more intense laughter, even having to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye at one point. The witch shook her head and joined him on the bench, sitting a good arm's length away – an awkward distance away really.

Draco glared out of the corner of his eyes, following the movement of her heavy bag of books with careful scrutiny. He held one hand protectively between his legs still until she'd stopped readjusting and even then it lingered until he deemed himself safe. "I'd be more convinced if you weren't still laughing."

The brunette chortled, covering her mouth again but doing a much better job of reining it in this time around. "Sorry," she said again. "We can just...wait here for a few until you feel better."

He snorted and rolled his eyes, "Thanks so much. You know, you should learn to watch where you're going. Or wait, here's a thought, maybe you could actually stop reading for a minute and function outside pages of text."

Hermione's laughter pittered off and she folded her arms stubbornly, "Maybe you should just learn to not stop so suddenly in the middle of a path."

"Or..." Draco looked at her with a blonde eyebrow raised and repeated his earlier sentiment, "You could watch where you're going."

With her second harrumph, he sighed and reclined on the bench, slinging one arm over the back of it casually. The ache between his legs was receding, thank Merlin, then they could just go to sleep upon returning to the room. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would be tender enough there still that he wouldn't think about shagging her. Although, it wasn't typical of a Malfoy to have any kind of luck, especially the good kind.

The silence stretched between them, the sounds of nocturnal insect life starting to come out the more the sun sank in the sky. This one wasn't cool and comfortable like the others, it was cool and _angry_. The tension between them was growing the longer they let it sit and between the dull throb in his sac and the idea of an upset Granger in single room confinement, Draco finally decided to be the first to break it.

"What was it that caught your interest in that little book, anyway?"

Hermione didn't answer immediately. She just looked pointedly off to one side with her arms folded and her nose stuck in the air stubbornly. The witch had been very intent on ignoring him when she realized what it was that was in front of her. Anger forgotten for the moment, she fumbled to retrieve the booklet, finding the page she'd left off on. Staring hard at the tiny picture, up at the statue, then down again, her mood lightened.

"That!"

Draco followed the line of her arm to take in the statue that he'd stopped to see before their whole collision took place. "That?"

"That!" She said again, flipping a page, "They had a poem in here by him that was quite lovely called...it was called Ferd—Ferr-"

"Ferðalok?"

"Yes-" Hermione blinked at the blonde. He was no longer giving her any of his attention and instead just leaning back, taking in the statue in the dimming daylight. "You know who that is?"

"Jónas Hallgrímsson, a very famous Icelandic poet," he said softly, but shrugged. "There _is_ a reason that I stopped before you so rudely barreled into me."

The witch frowned and smacked at his outstretched arm lightly, but it didn't really phase him. "I _said_ I was sorry!"

"I know."

Hermione saw his smirk, but he still didn't shift his attention. Despite herself, she felt the beginnings of her own smirk tugging at her mouth and she shifted to curl her legs under her and look back at the statue. The image of the man was very stiff and rigid. It was very proper and lacked the organic and easy feel that so many of the other sculptures they'd viewed earlier held.

"This is..the same artist, isn't it?"

Draco nodded.

"It doesn't really _feel_ the same. All the other things I saw of his today were more...fluid and unhinged. They were unhindered, open, honest...and just...just, _free._" She frowned after she said it, "If that makes any sense."

"It does. From what I've read, the artist was not overly happy with this piece due to the demands put on him by the people that ordered it done." The blonde gave her a sidelong glance at the comment, "I never pegged you for much of an art enthusiast, Granger."

She blushed and shrugged. "I'm not really. As you so indelicately pointed out earlier, I enjoy reading. I read to learn about new things and sometimes, believe it or not, my reading _does_ include pictures." Hermione pursed her lips at the mock gasp that followed, but her tone was light in jest.

Draco clutched one hand over his heart dramatically, "Hermione Granger reading a book with _pictures_?! Salazar take me!"

"Malfoy."

He looked at her questioningly a second, but with the surprised look they both shared – his for realizing his error again, and hers for correcting it..._again – _that expression sobered. Draco looked her over, the dark of the night having crept in while they bantered. He couldn't see the pink to her cheeks but knowing her particular fidget, he knew it was there. They were illuminated only by the nearby streetlights and strategically placed spotlights highlighting the statue and the surrounding fancy foliage.

"Hermione _Malfoy_ reading about art," he corrected his earlier statement, voice softer and careful, "What in Merlin's name has this world come to?"

Hermione chuckled nervously, dipping her head so her hair covered the sides of her face – a habit that persisted even in the low light. "I get bored waiting for new editions of old tomes to come out. A girl's got to do something with her time," she quipped.

"Right," he snorted, grinning her way. Draco watched her shy smile spread across her face slowly, carefully as though it was testing the waters and trying the feel of being there. Still grinning, he took up a lock of her curly hair that had been brushing against his thumb. He rubbed the silky strands between his fingertips lightly, gaze shifting to that action, missing the curious way she was just watching him instead of slapping his hand away.

Bushy. Frizzy. Unruly. _Huge._ All words that he'd used to describe her ridiculous mane of curls at least once before. All words that he would continue to use to describe them in the future. Now, though, he was just thinking of how resilient they were.

How they bounced so perfectly when he had her under him, moving with every one of his hard thrusts into her.

How the color was so rich and deep and accented her warm skin tone perfectly.

How beautifully it fell around the soft curve of her jaw by the end of the day.

How he really preferred it off and away from her face so he could see more of her, more of the woman she constantly tried to hide behind it and all of her sensible clothes.

Draco's fingers made their way over her cheek, the tips dragging so lightly up and around her ear, the featherlight touch making her shiver. He mumbled something to himself, but it was loud enough for her to hear and glance back up to him from beneath her eyelashes.

"How's that?" Hermione asked carefully, her voice was nearly as soft as his had been. The stillness in the air around them seemed so much more noticeable then, it was so quiet that it was _loud_ and she was nervous to ruin the peaceful silence.

The blonde blinked over to her dark eyes, still watching him like before. Draco debated on repeating himself for what seemed a long while until he smiled slightly, even the small one held a distinct air of confidence and he repeated his words, spoken at first in the land's language, though he knew she couldn't understand.

_I carefully combed your hair;_

_Eye stars flash, flower lips smile, cheeks turn ruby red._

At the pursing of her lips and brow, he only continued, though the next was spoken in Swedish. It was the language he thought he recognized by her intonation in the cafe earlier that day. When her eyes cleared, eyebrows lifting in some recognition of the meaning of the words, he knew he'd been correct. His pronunciation dragged a bit here and there, a syllable too long on occasion, but from the concentrated way in which she was deciphering it, he thought he was conveying himself well enough.

_He is far from your fair friendship, the lad deep in the dark valley.  
The star of love over Steeple Rock Is burning back of clouds._

The gears in Hermione's head seemed to be turning, translating the foreign words into a language she was more fluent in and recognized more quickly. A second tier of understanding flashed through her and her mouth fell open in a gasp, remembering words of similar meanings printed in the guidebook.

He was reciting poetry.

Hermione blinked.

Draco Malfoy was reciting _poetry_...to_** her.**_

A furious blush crept back into her face at the implications and she ducked her head again.

The blonde's grin returned, wider than ever, ever so amused by the woman's shy behaviour. With his final verse, he spoke to her in French, one of his most well learned and practiced languages. Each word rolled off his tongue with a smooth, silky confidence that spread goosebumps over her flesh. She kept her head down, although the warmth of his palm was still near her cheek, his fingers having found a soothing rhythm of stroking the wild hairs away from her face.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut and she muttered the translation of the last set of words to herself, allowing the mellow tone of his voice to glide over her skin. "_The heavens part the high planets...blade parts back and edge...not even eternity can part souls that are sealed in love.."_

When Hermione reopened her eyes, she found Draco had moved closer. He was well within her reach now instead of being barely out of it. The woman was still curled up on the bench and the side of his thigh nudged her knees. Draco's hand curled more solidly around the curve of her neck and shivers ran through her at the feel of his blunt nails raking up the back of her scalp. Hermione felt more than saw him leaning in, her palms coming to rest flat against his collarbone, though they seemed to still be deciding if they were there to push him away or pull him close.

Draco tugged her forward with one hand at her neck and shoulder and the other sliding up her thigh just enough to move her closer. He watched her eyelids flutter again, watched those ever insistent teeth tug at the meat of her lip and thought that he would have that for himself this time, that she shouldn't have all the fun. The wizard closed in on her lips, close enough to feel the flesh rub across his and then he felt a small, somewhat reluctant, press at his shoulders. Draco peeled open his eyes to see what it was. Hermione's small hands were planted at each point of pressure he'd felt and her lids were halfway to closed, gaze glossy and apparently trying to regain some cognizance. He arched a pale eyebrow.

"I never pegged you as the kind to care for poetry..." Hermione teased in similar words, though it came out as a breathy murmur. Her head fuzzed at the way his thumb traced circles at her thigh over the safety of her denim.

The blonde moved her hands from their spots on his shoulders and coaxed them up around his neck with surprisingly little resistance. His cocky smirk was in place as his arms moved to wrap around her, pulling her closer still to the point she finally had to unfurl her legs to scoot closer.

"My family's _French_, Hermione."

Her rapidly beating heart stuttered when he said her name, her head tilting to one side of its own accord, focusing on the lips floating closer to her own. She vaguely recalled a soft sound fill the space between them and shortly thereafter realized it was her whimper, squeezed out of her by the large hand slipping up the length of her back.

"What are you doing?" She whispered, still stubbornly trying to cling to her resolve to keep him at a distance.

"Silencing my wife's incessant questions."

Hermione's stomach flipped when he claimed her in such a way aloud, even though they were the only ones to hear. There was a rumble of possessiveness in his tone when he called her his wife and she couldn't help the burst of heat that spread through her at the sound of it. "Wanker," she breathed without malice.

"A bit," he conceded silkily, tired of her stalling. Draco captured her lips with his own, a buzz of warmth thrumming through his core as soon as they connected. A satisfied groan found its way out of him when her arms wrapped more firmly around his neck and she leaned more of her weight against him.

Part of him was hoping that yesterday was all a trick, just a ruse making him think abnormal thoughts. She wasn't really as soft as he remembered, the taste of her wasn't actually as sweet as he recalled, her body wasn't truly as responsive as he seemed to think it was – _that_ was the real lie. She was _**exactly**_ as perfect as before.

Hermione's slim figure curved easily into Draco's hard, chiseled lines. She melded smoothly with each dip and mound of muscle. His hands settled on the most welcoming swell of her hip and rear and she felt a brief weightlessness just before the firm surface of his thighs met the meat of her bum as he readjusted her on his lap. A surprised gasp pulled from her lips when she felt a distinct, growing hardness beneath her and her brain clicked back on, blaring sirens that were screeching _'__STOP__! __WAIT__! __DON'T__!__' _and cutting through the fog that swept in to addle her senses.

The witch dodged his next kiss, pulling back from his easy reach to cause him enough pause that he finally opened his eyes, they were little more than molten pools of mercury staring at her then. He made another try for her lips but she moved the furthest away the circle of his arms would allow, earning her a rumble of disapproval.

Hermione was breathless from the single kiss and she was warring with herself right then on whether or not to continue talking or continue snogging. "This wasn't part of the deal."

Draco pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled a growl, the air blowing some springy tendrils of her hair off her shoulder. He couldn't keep the aggravation from his tone and asked snappishly, "Which one? The one where we signed our lives away to The Ministry or the one where we pretend we didn't have a bloody marvelous shag?" _'Sod it. Sod the damn agreement.'_

Hermione drew back again, this time in surprise at the so casual way he referred to the night before. "_Shag?_ Is that what you would call it?" She asked, forgetting all about the agreement as well.

The wizard missed the lightly injured tone in her question or he may not have responded so coarsely. Draco looked at her funny, a half snort preceding his puzzled reply, "What else would you call it?"

She looked at him then with a quickly souring look, the fluttering feeling in her belly turning to iron at his words and the circle of his arms went from being warm and comforting to frigid and constricting. Hermione's jaw tensed and the hurt flickered through her face but it was gone as quickly as it came, a well oiled steel trap clamping up and around her emotions with a practiced ease.

Shoving Draco's arms away from her, she slipped off his lap, face red with embarrassment but she schooled her features to remain stony and calm. One could almost feel the temperature of the air drop between them. Hermione tilted her nose up at him with as much indifference as she could muster, "Nothing. Clearly it was nothing but..._a shag_."

The witch didn't wait for him to say anything more and turned on her heel. She thought she may have heard him call out for her but she couldn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears. Hermione was walking, taking several briskly paced steps away from the blonde and his words that confirmed her foolishness – _just a SHAG._ Apparating back to their hotel room, she would silence and barricade herself in the bathroom. Two nights in a row she would seek sanctuary from having to deal with him. All the while, a tiny voice in the back of her mind speaking that she'd rather the reason for hiding be more in line with yesterday's experience than the sudden cheapness she felt coursing through her now.

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-..-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

**_.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-._**

The water was hot, scalding even. She was sure it had to be, even though she hadn't stepped into the shower yet. The steam from the spray was filling the room quickly and the humidity was stifling but she just didn't care.

Hermione stood facing her reflection as she always did. She did it in stages. First she would stare hard, picking apart her clothed self. Next, she would strip to the base layer, imagining what someone – someone like Viktor, or Ron, or even Draco - might see. Finally, she stood bare, staring and taking herself in. She had done this on occasion for a while when she was younger. Every now and again before or after a bath she would look and examine and think about what people saw when they looked at her. She knew what they all said, Merlin did she know what they all said...but she tried to understand what they _saw_.

Growing up, they made fun of her. They saw her frizzy head of hair and her too big front teeth, took it, and ran with it. Back then, she would watch her reflection in the mirror and she would pick out everything that they couldn't see for themselves. Her eyes were bright and sparkled with gold. Her cheeks lacked the childish fat that so many other children of her age seemed to sport. Her skin was fair and unblemished. Her stance was proud and driven.

At her coming of age, the height of the war, the harsh words _Mudblood_ and _Filth_ were flung around in wild abandon. She knew her value to her friends then, but there was so much more bad than good to hear. She would come and search for those things again, those things that she knew were there but mattered nothing to the people that hunted her and her kind down.

Her eyes still sparked and glittered and though their look had hardened considerably, it was easy to detect the wealth of knowledge that lay within. Her cheeks had hollowed some, though the highlight of her cheekbones and point of her chin did only good, making her more distinguished and adding to her confident poise. The lips she'd been used to seeing curved in an easy smirk instead held a firm line nearly all the time, although she knew that when they would curl upwards it was always a good day in those dark times.

Once the war was finally over, the praise started. There were still the scandals, the idiocy, _the press _being ridiculous, but for the first time in her life, Hermione was drowning in compliments and positivity. Brilliant, they said. Courageous, some insisted. Without her, it couldn't have been done! Things were good and her and her friends celebrated. Her and Ron got together, just as everyone suspected they would, and she stopped searching her reflection for the good that everyone had never seen before because they finally all saw it too.

That's what she'd thought anyway.

To be together, working with one another as they always had, Hermione had put herself in a career that was below her potential somewhat, but would allow her to help the boys. She saw them often, practically every day at first, it was nice for her relationship at the time as well. At least until the blanket of appreciation she'd gotten accustomed to from those around her started to tear, little by little, by comments and quips that reminded her of a time long past.

It was subtle at first and she thought nothing of it. Ron – because it was always Ron – would tease about her being a bookworm or a know-it-all. That was never that bad, it was a truth that she'd come to accept a long time ago and didn't really phase her in the way that it once did. It was when he would speak casually of things like her_ '_neurotic organization' in the office, or 'obsessiveness' with work that she began to notice the frequency in which his comments would come. All the while, they were trying to expand and grow their relationship, but when the topic of intimacy came up and she shared her view on the sex part of it, the pushback he gave on the issue was surprising.

Hermione knew that most people engaged in casual relations nowadays, and while she was not opposed to some things leading up to the act itself, she had a hard line in the sand that she would not cross. The aggravation that the man who'd been her best friend for so long showed in response to it was startling. They had their share of fights over it, but ultimately they loved each other so it all worked out at the end of the day.

Again, that's what she'd thought.

Ron stopped pushing the issue after a bit but she noticed the offhanded comments about her quirky habits increased. It was gradual and she let it slide some days, just tired of getting into their moderately heated scuffles after a while, until one day she finally up and blew her top. Her temper was slow to boil but once it finally set to bubbling it was difficult to calm. The words they exchanged that night were the worst either of them ever experienced up to that point and Ron had stormed off, where to, she didn't know, at the time she didn't much care either.

He came to her that night, or early the next day, it was somewhere in between and she doesn't remember much detail about it anyway beyond the conversation. Hermione remembered him coming to her in a panic, frantic and frazzled, eyes wide and horrified, apologizing profusely. At first she thought him to be apologizing for their fight and was ready to make amends, but the words that were spilling from his mouth, the regretful and damning words, they had nothing to do with the fight and everything to do with a big mistake that he was so very, _very_ sorry for.

The big mistake was a leggy blonde witch with big tits and a curvy arse that was a 'huge fan' of Ron's celebrity status. He didn't even know her name, but apparently he had a moment of weakness after their row and, while he didn't go all the way with the woman, he came to Hermione out of guilt to grovel and admit to what he _**had**_ done. She wanted to hear nothing of it.

"_I'm sorry 'Mione, I didn't mean to—I was upset from earlier and we just-"_

"_What? You what? You accidentally fucked her because I wouldn't put out? Tell me, did she have all the features you hate so much about me?"_

"_NO! No, I didn't! I—I just..I had a few too many and she asked me to come up to her room to talk. To TALK is all. I didn't think of it until we were there and she-she was kissing me. I didn't realize what was happening until—I didn't sleep with her Hermione, I swear!"_

"_Right, you just snogged some slag whose name you can't even remember! Oh Ronald, still my beating heart, your words are like a bleedin' serenade-"_

"_'Mione, I swear nothing happened. There's no need to overreact-"_

_"OVERREACT?!" She seethed and blew out all the roiling emotions from her body in a shuddering breath until there was only stillness. The kind of stillness that hung in the air before the strike of a predator. "Out."_

"_Hermione please, I love-"_

"_I SAID out. Get out...thank you for telling me of your...indiscretion...but please, get out. I don't want to see you right now."_

"_Right. Of course." He nodded and made to leave, shoulders hunched around his dipped head, pausing in the foyer. "A-are we..."_

"_Done. We're done." Hermione said it with a choked finality. The redhead just nodded again and continued on his path out of her flat. Even after what he'd done, Hermione's heart ached to see him go looking so defeated like that and the words left her before she could stop them, "I don't know...if I'll ever want to speak to you again Ronald. But for now, please leave me alone. I will find you if anything changes.." _

_The redhead nodded again and left, though there was less of the hunch to his shoulders. She'd given him just an inkling of hope that their friendship wasn't forever destroyed by his hour of stupidity._

_Her heart was bigger than her head sometimes._

Hermione ran her hands over her naked form again. She used to wince at the memory, but now it barely phased her. The more lasting effects his words and actions had on her was the niggling reinforcement of her self-doubt. If her best friend of a decade found her so unattractive inside and out, maybe it called for more of her consideration. Maybe she was fooling herself at all the good qualities she thought she would see when she looked in the mirror. Physical beauty wasn't everything, it had never mattered to her before...but at the realization that even Ron didn't appreciate her intellect and wit, what more did she have? She'd looked in the mirror every day since that night and couldn't for the life of her find the things she once used to.

_Small breasts...he was right about that...barely a handful.._

_Look at all these scars...they're everywhere.._

_...I look so tired...I always look so tired..._

Draco's words from last night ran through her mind again. Beautiful. He called her beautiful. That was a word that she so very rarely heard. He sounded so sincere when he'd said it too. That's why she thought that maybe there was something else to what they did, just an inkling of something...but maybe it was just physical.

Hermione laughed to herself humourlessly. How entirely ironic that was.

Her friend for years found her extensive knowledge irritating and her physicality 'prudish' and unbecoming, going so far as to pout about her personal decisions to save herself for marriage, but her enemy for just as long constantly acted as though he enjoyed her intelligence, seeking her out routinely for a good intellectual argument thinking she wouldn't notice, and even called her beautiful. He'd put forth the effort to make her first time actually enjoyable instead of another of the horror stories she'd heard or read about from friends or magazines.

How fucked up had everything really become?

The witch sighed heavily and finally turned to her shower before the water turned to ice.

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It was dark when he finally returned to the hotel room. Dark inside. Dark outside. Draco entered as quietly as he could through the door, opting to walk back instead of Apparating, lest he splinch himself due to the few drinks he'd allowed himself to indulge in after Hermione's hasty departure. He'd gotten lucky enough once with not losing his bollocks in close quarters with the woman, now with her _obviously_ pissed at him, he wasn't going to follow her when he was sure her anger was still raging.

The clock in the lobby showed it was some time after midnight, 2...3 maybe...shit he'd already forgotten. Whatever time it was, it was late and he was exhausted and just a little tipsy. He whispered a quiet _lumos,_ illuminating the room in an eerie bluish white light. His eyes shifted to the bed first only to find it empty and precisely as they'd left it that afternoon. In that instant his pulse thumped in his ears and he could feel his blood begin to race through his veins.

_'Where the hell could she be?'_

Draco was certain she'd be there. He was sure she would've Apparated to the room, or at least the hotel since she hadn't been around the landscape enough otherwise to commit much to memory. He waved his wand about the room and saw all of their bags still in the corner – she didn't go home. She wouldn't have left all of this here. His fuzzed vision cleared some as the adrenaline started making its way to his limbs. Maybe it was the alcohol making him ridiculous, maybe it was something else, but whatever it was, was conjuring horrible possibilities of what could have happened to her during the hours he'd stayed away; horrible things reminiscent of _terrifying_ things he'd seen during the Dark Lord's stint at his Manor, including one very prominent memory-

_...zzzzz..._

_'What was that?'_ Draco steadied his breathing, letting the silence settle in around him again. He'd think it silly if he bothered to think at all. If there was some immediate danger in the room, he was a glaring target with the light of his wand easily distinguished in the darkness.

_...Zzzz..._

It sounded like...snoring? The blonde tilted his head to one side, stepping further into the room with delicate steps – as delicate as drunken steps could be, anyway. Draco stretched out his arm, sweeping his wand from one side to the other more slowly, searching for the source of the sound and all at once the tension in his body drained away.

In the corner of the room was the padded armchair with the ottoman pushed up against the front edge of it, creating something of a makeshift chaise. Curled in the chair with one of the spare blankets from the closet draped over her was none other than the insufferable woman who nearly gave him a heart attack. Draco sighed, partly in exasperation and partly in relief.

He dipped into the bathroom to turn on the lights and closed the door part of the way until there was just enough light in the room to navigate and he extinguished the light from his wand. Making more of those deliberate drunken steps, he set her bag of books, left with him in her anger, on the room's desk and moved around the large bed with as much precision and silence as he could muster. He fluffed up one set of pillows with soft pats and punches and pulled back the sheets then turned back to the sleeping witch.

Crouching down near her tightly balled figure, Draco grimaced as he looked her over for the easiest way to move her without waking her. She'd slept quite heavily the night before, though he doubted he was going to get nearly so lucky tonight. As he was pondering how to lift her, he caught a telltale sheen on her cheeks, dried moisture that was just barely visible thanks to the light at his back. The lines ran in tracks from her eyes, over the curve of her cheeks, and to the edge of her chin. His grimace deepened.

_'Way to fucking go, mate. Barely two days in and you're already mucking things up royally...'_

He sighed and the action caused the brunette to stir. Hermione's hand flashed out with a white knuckled grip on her wand that had apparently been tucked somewhere under her head. Her bleary eyes hadn't quite caught up with her reflexes yet, but Draco could see the beginnings of a spell forming on her lips. Just as quickly he grabbed onto her wrist to point it anywhere but his head and clamped the other over her mouth. Growing frantic and more alert, he heard the a shrill noise starting behind the mask of his palm.

Draco hissed at her, "Calm down, Granger, it's just me!"

His trademark use of her surname perhaps wasn't the best in her groggy state because she just became more insistent with her struggling.

The wizard pressed closer to her and tried to soften his tone, "Stop it! Hermione, it's _me! _It's Draco!"

Hermione blinked her puffy eyes at him several times trying to gain her bearings and did at least stop wriggling. After she'd stilled for a few seconds, she tried to process the scene further until a spark of recognition finally flickered in her tired eyes. Gingerly, she brought her free hand up to curl around the hand covering her mouth, tugging at it until he finally pulled away.

"Draco?" Her voice was little more than a hoarse croak, "What time is it?"

Draco frowned, releasing her wand arm also, "Late. C'mon love, let's get you into bed." He slid his arms under her body, lifting her easily and holding her to his chest.

Hermione rocked into his frame in the cradle of his arms, mumbling sleepily against the warmth of his body that was doing very well in lulling her back to bed already, "..git.."

"Yeah.." he agreed quietly, carrying her the modest distance back to the bed.

The wizard placed her in the spot he'd prepared and plucked the spare blanket off of her, depositing it in the chair she'd just vacated. Draco smacked at her bare feet softly until she took the hint and slipped them beneath the sheets and only then did he drag them back up to her chest.

Hermione hummed contentedly, letting the coziness of being tucked in settle into her weary bones. She rolled over, wand arm slipping beneath her new pillow and snuggled into its softness. "..night night.."

Draco smirked, watching what he could see of her profile fall into a much more relaxed state than before. Her face pressed into the pillow facing him and he could already tell that there would be an unfortunate sticky puddle of drool waiting for her in the morning if she slept like that all night. Hesitantly, he reached out for her cheek, exhaling in relief when she didn't jerk awake and shove her wand in his face again. Draco smudged the faint tear tracks on her cheek and leaned forward to place a light kiss to her forehead.

"Night, Granger."

With a final once over of the sheets to make sure she was completely tucked in, Draco shambled back to the armchair and sank down into the cushions. Too tired to think about just how uncomfortable this makeshift bed was, he kicked off his shoes and stretched out, head lolling to one side as he let the booze and exhaustion drag him under.

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Light. A very persistent beam of light was zeroed in just over her eyes and ever since her consciousness had begun to stir, it was becoming very difficult to ignore. Hermione grunted and rolled over in the other direction, hoping to block out the brightness, but once she'd awoken enough to do that, her blasted mind already began it's usual steps, whirring into alertness. The witch lay there for a few more long moments, eyes shut, blankets pulled up around her shoulders, and a disturbing weight of crusted saliva stiffening a patch of her hair and pressing down against her neck.

Hermione grunted again, swiping the back of her hand over her mouth and coming away with sticky residue. "Blech-" She only ever drooled in her sleep if she'd cried the night before or she was immensely comfortable. As her consciousness came back to her, she foggily remembered to blame Draco for this.

_'Wait..Draco?'_

The brunette rubbed at her eyes, peeling them open and blinking away the sleep until the room came into focus. The first thing she saw was another set of pillows and an empty side of bed. But didn't she go to sleep in the chair? She sat up suddenly, blinking around and taking in the room.

The sunlight that had woken her was a result of a part in the curtains and it, as well as the rest of the muted sunlight behind the fabric, brightened the room with a soft glow. In the corner where she distinctly recalled falling asleep – not wanting to even deal with sleeping in the same bed as the idiot blonde last night – was said blonde, sleeping in her spot; always in her spot. The fuzzy recollection of waking in the middle of the night and being relocated floated back to the surface of her memory.

Hermione looked at Draco, stretched out and still in his clothing from the day before, looking rumpled and entirely uncomfortable with his head crooked at an angle. She frowned, watching the rise and fall of his chest. To say she was surprised that he didn't just join her in bed was an understatement, especially after such a casual stance on their previous activities – it was very _white knight-esque_ of him. However, it didn't keep her from still being a little miffed.

The witch snuck out of bed, still not feeling much like dealing with him, at least not until she'd been properly fed. Tiptoeing delicately around the room, she gathered a change of clothes, ducked into the bathroom to clean her face up and tame her hair to an acceptable level, before making her way downstairs to find some sustenance.

Hermione was able to procure some food in the hotel itself, a feature of their stay there being a complimentary breakfast for each morning they were registered to the room. It had to have been at least an hour, maybe more, that she spent at one of the tables, taking her time eating fruit, eggs, and an assortment of meats and watching the coming and going of the other early rising guests.

The patrons of the hotel seemed to be from several different origins and walks of life. She saw and heard the murmur of conversations between people that she surmised came from the neighboring Scandinavian peninsula as well as some that sounded like they were from other nearby countries such as Germany, France, and Italy. All in all, it was pleasant and relaxing for watching the flow of others milling about for business or pleasure, or both.

Draining her second glass of juice, the clock in the lobby began to chime, and only then did she realize that she'd spent nearly two hours just sitting there. When was the last time she ever just _sat still_ for that long anywhere? Hermione couldn't even begin to recall such a date. Maybe Draco was right about decompressing.

The thought curled her lips in a miniscule smile and she immediately started to feel guilty about not waking him up for breakfast. Actually, the fact that he hadn't come down at all yet piqued her curiosity. Hermione had only really observed his sleeping habits once before, but if that were anything to go on, he was a relatively light sleeper. Now that she thought of it, she was certain he kept fairly early office hours as well. She wondered what time it was that he'd finally returned to the room last night...

Hermione was only able to ponder it for a minute or so before she rolled her eyes at herself, stood from her seat at the table, and then marched her way to procure another plate of food.

The time was nearing 11 now, she checked before heading back upstairs. The witch opened the door to their hotel room and peeked around the door before entering, but the inside was just as quiet and still as it was when she'd exited. Careful to latch the door stealthily behind her, she saw Draco still sprawled in the makeshift bed that, while it held her small form reasonably well, it looked comical with his significantly taller one stretched out on it.

He'd at least shifted some while she was gone. His head had now fallen back so his mouth was hanging open and he was snoring in a completely unattractive fashion. One arm rested over his stomach and the other was draped over the arm of the chair while his feet had both slipped off of either side of the ottoman and planted awkwardly on the carpet. Hermione grinned at the sight, though the obnoxious noise coming from him was starting to grate on her sensibilities.

Hurriedly setting the food on the desk, she paused a moment, seeing that he'd brought her books back with him whenever it was he'd returned. Hermione sighed. He was the most infuriating kind of considerate and it made her feel so foolish for being upset with him.

Without further hesitation, she padded over to him and nudged his head until he was tucked more soundly into the curve of the chair, getting an unpleasant whiff of liquor tinged breath when she did so. At least there was an explanation as to why he was still so dead to the world. She took less care in moving him to a more comfortable position after that and retrieved the top sheet from the bed to lay it over him.

"There. That should be a bit better...won't wake up with a sore throat now, ya prat." She smiled, noting the way he shimmied and snuggled further into the cushions, head burrowing into a little crook of the wingback chair.

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Draco finally pulled himself from his deep drink induced slumber with a crick in his neck like something awful. He'd dragged himself from the seat only to find that he, once again, had misplaced his wife. At least he avoided another heart attack by actually taking the time to look around more thoroughly. This go around she wasn't hiding anywhere in the room, but there was a peculiar plate of food looking particularly inviting on the desk next to Hermione's open bag. Draco wondered for a split second if the food was brought to the room by hotel staff or elves while in his unconscious state, but the small note left beside it in a script he was quite accustomed to, simply reading _"EAT",_ quashed those suspicions immediately.

Even when she was nowhere nearby she still managed to be bossy.

He chuckled and allowed himself the extra time to sit and indulge in the meal. Hermione must have cast a warming charm on it, because it was still steaming and delicious by the time he got to it; either that or she was here just recently, though judging by the fact that it was breakfast food and at his best guess by the brightness of the sun outside it was past noon, he highly doubted it was the latter.

Draco checked to make sure Hermione's belongings were still all there and came to find that the only thing really missing that he could peg was the language primer he'd purchased for her. Go figure that of all the things to do on their vacation, she went to go read.

After he had his fill of the food, Draco made himself presentable with a shower and a change into less wrinkled clothing to embark on his search for the witch. If she would even talk to him today, he had a few things he wanted to go see, and had a disturbing urge for her presence. The wizard wasn't sure what to call whatever it was he was attempting to do – the word _date_ rang through his head again – but whatever it was, he seemed to be pretty awful at it. After all these years of learning the ins and outs of Hermione Granger, he only really knew how to piss her off.

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"So..wait, this part is like a..._dth__u_ sound?"

"...something like that."

Hermione stared hard at her book with as intense of a stare as she'd ever had heating the pages. Her mouth was slightly open trying to mimic the shapes needed to pronounce some of the sounds her impromptu tutor was instructing her in. Her tongue pressed against the backs of her teeth, tensing and flattening a few times as she attempted to reproduce several intonations she wasn't at all used to.

The witch's attempts were so exaggerated and indelicate, she looked a bit like she was trying to cough something up with as hard as she was trying.

The man at her side laughed and patted her lightly on the knee, "Perhaps you should have a break?" His hand lingered there while she mostly ignored him, still trying to get a handle on some sounds she was having trouble with. He looked her over, eyes taking in the adornments on her ring finger. "Are you not here with someone? Husband perhaps? Would he not be missing you?"

"No," she answered automatically, not realizing the answer she gave until his hand seemed to flatten more over her denim covered knee. Hermione's head came up then and she saw her fellow hotel patron eying her in a way that held more than just a passing interest. A flush came to her cheeks quickly and she sat up and stiffened.

"Oh! I meant that he wouldn't know I was gone, he was having a nap-"

"Then you're right, he won't be missing you in his unconscious state."

As politely as possible, Hermione started inching away from the man, extracting her leg from his hand in such a careful way as to not cause a scene. She rifled through another fabricated excuse that might kindly deter him. "You wereright though. I'm here with my husband and I should warn you, he's a _very_ jealous man. You may want to go on and leave."

"That's alright," he dismissed her concerns again, leaning more heavily against the backrest of the sofa and towards her again some as well. "What's a reward without a challenge?"

Hermione sneered. Did he really just say that? She must have been so enamoured by the book Draco bought her that she didn't notice the slime that was just oozing off of this guy. When he moved even closer, she held the book as a barrier between the two of them, her face going serious, that scene she avoided starting earlier just itching to come out.

"No..._really_. I insist that you consider making yourself scarce."

"Oh?" He grinned, seeming to take the hardening of her pretty brown eyes as a dare. "Why's that?"

Hermione's eyes glanced to a spot behind him and then back, "Because he's coming over here right now."

The man hesitated looking at first but did eventually turn to see a tall impeccably dressed man stepping very determinedly in their direction. His suit was a deep charcoal with an equally dark shirt and tie and contrasted with his alabaster skin and silvery white hair. At this distance, the man could only see the set of his shoulders and the vague beginnings of a scowl, but Draco was fast approaching and the closer he got, the more clearly he learned Hermione was right: he appeared to be a very jealous man.

"Good afternoon," Draco said once he finally reached the pair, the other man having had enough sense to put more distance between them. He spoke to Hermione, though his eyes were all for the other wizard, obviously sizing him up. "Making new friends already, darling?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the endearment, his sarcasm peeking through in the one word, illustrating his irritation. What right did _he_ have to be irritated with _her_ anyway? Wouldn't this technically be allowed within their contract? Not that she had any interest in dating or sleeping around in general, much less with this sleazy individual she just met, but _technically_ it would be allowed.

The brunette set her book carefully in her lap and arched a fine brow at Draco, "I was just taking a moment to try and learn some of the language since you dragged me here without preparation or warning. Your snoring was so atrocious that I wouldn't have been able to concentrate in the room."

Draco snorted and provided her his full attention now, "Ever heard of the term 'surprise'? And really, leave it to you to go on holiday and _study_. You could have woken me up-"

The Icelandic wizard watched the two curiously, a little surprised that he'd already been brushed off and his existence apparently forgotten. His stare bounced from one to the other as the argument escalated, all the while he couldn't help but feel he'd met this man before.

_Where was it that he'd seen these features? Pale skin and pale hair weren't wholly uncommon in the region he was visiting from, but even for a wizard, they seemed very...significant._

"_You're_ the one who bought me the book! Clearly you don't know me at all if you expect to buy me a book and have me _not_ read it. ESPECIALLY when it's completely relevant to my surroundings! Also, you weren't about to come out of it any time soon, not with the way you reeked of booze. I'm surprised you're even up now!"

_His eyes darted back to the curly headed brunette who was visibly bristling at her husband's presence. It didn't seem like they cared for each other very much at all, though the chemistry between them was clear as crystal. The moment the man came close, her body sat up at attention and all her focus went into preparing for whatever it was he had to say. It was almost as though she were preparing for battle in a way – wait..._

"I did not _reek_ of booze! I had a pint! Or two...it's irrelevant! I had some drinks after you _stormed_ off last night because I didn't want you to hex my bollocks off!"

_He was certain he recognized her now that he was looking at her, really looking at her. He didn't bother getting her name earlier, now he was thinking that maybe he should have..._

"Well perhaps if you weren't such an insensitive and pig-headed GIT, Malfoy, that danger wouldn't even have presented itself!"

_Malfoy?_

Draco clicked his tongue, "Insensi—what did I do?! I gave you a bleedin' compliment, Granger! I SAID it was a _marvelous_ sh-"

_Granger...Hermione Granger?_

"DON'T you use that word again!" Hermione was on her feet. Her book took the place in the seat and she had one hand clenched into a fist at her side and the other jabbing a finger into Draco's chest. "It's vulgar and, and, and—I'm not just some slag, Draco!"

_Draco! DRACO MALFOY! He KNEW he'd seen this wizard before. With his job working for one of the local wizarding publication offices, he's surprised he didn't recognize them both sooner...or immediately really. Wait...famed Death Eater Draco Malfoy and War Heroine Hermione Granger were there **together?** Everything that he could recall from his work with the press cited them as being on opposite sides of the war and on less than friendly terms. Well...they still seemed less than friendly, anyway._

Draco's anger lessened as his confusion increased, "I never said you were-" His hand wrapped around hers, pulling the jabbing finger away from his, now slightly sore, sternum.

_A glinting light caught his eye at Draco's movement and he saw it – THERE – confirmation of everything he thought he'd heard but was delaying processing. A wedding band matching the one he'd seen on the woman's finger. They were married, like she said. **Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were married.** THAT was a story that hadn't made the headlines yet. If they were here on holiday, was this their honeymoon? Oh, that was rich...speaking of being rich-_

"Excuse me," the wizard spoke softly, trying to sneak away beneath the couple's radar to retrieve his camera and notepad. There was a definite promotion in his very near future to be the first to break this news to the wizarding community. If they hadn't heard of something this big happening across the sea from their sources in London, this can't have even made the papers _there_. Oh yes...a promotion was definitely in the cards, or at the very least a substantial bonus.

Hermione waved her free hand at the man dismissively, eyes still set in a glare at her husband, "No, you simply implied it! I'm not some kind of casual tart-"

"I didn't!" Draco protested, letting her tug her hand away from his grip but coaxing her to sit back down with him on the sofa in an attempt to avoid the growing number of curious stares turning their way. "I didn't," he said again in a more hushed tone. "Granger, there's nothing _casual_ about you."

Her eyes narrowed further, "I'm not sure how to take that from you."

"Take it however you like," he grunted and added sassily, "You will anyway."

Huffing, Hermione folded her arms and turned her head, "Ugh! Just when I think I'm beginning to like you, you go and open your idiot mouth!"

There was a period of silence following her comment and not at all the retort from Draco she'd expected. The pause made her curious enough to turn back to see him smirking at her, looking particularly smug.

"_What?_" She hissed, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You like me."

Hermione blinked. "What? I didn't..." she blanched, realizing what she'd said. "That's not how I meant it!"

"Then how?" He asked skeptically, mirroring her folded arm stance.

"I just..I just meant that every time I think I can _tolerate_ you, you do something to make me think twice...is all.."

A single eyebrow crept slowly up to his hairline, "You're an awful liar."

Hermione loosed an exasperated sigh, rubbing at her temples. She hadn't meant to say that. Did she like him? Maybe so, but while he had her trust on a professional level – for the most part – this much more intimate situation was something that still needed to be cultivated and cared for before she'd be able to admit such a thing without some serious doubts as to her sanity and desperation. She thought she _could_ like him...though she hadn't meant to reveal how invested she found herself becoming in this facade.

Who would've known that it would be so difficult to shut someone out again?

"Sometimes..._maybe_...I think," she started and stopped a few times, nothing she had to say seeming right. Shaking her head, she started a different route, "We're not even _**friends**_**, **Malfoy."

"Yet we're married."

"Yet we're married," Hermione agreed with a sigh. "This is all just so...so...so-"

"Backwards?" He offered.

"YES." She exhaled and fell back into the cushions a bit dramatically. "_Backwards_. Thank you."

Draco studied her, all sunk into the cushions, head laying on the back of the couch and eyes pointed towards the ceiling as though wishing some higher power to come and save her from all of her frustrations. She looked defeated, but not as woefully bad as he'd seen her before about other things. She liked him. She could say that she didn't mean it like that, but he knew what she meant full well. The more surprising thing is how light it made his insides feel to hear her say it aloud. It was the complete opposite of hearing the words from some of his few flings in the past and scrambling to manifest some kind of escape route. The only plans that were being formulated now in his head were of a completely separate nature.

He got more comfortable in the cushions as well, the movement drawing her attention with an eerie roll of her eyes. Draco folded his arms against the backrest of the couch and used them to pillow his head, presenting her with a slow blooming smile.

Hermione's eyes narrowed yet again in suspicion.

"How about another proposition?"

She snorted, "Because the last one worked so well."

He ignored the naysaying. "This one is better."

Exhaling in defeat, she shrugged, "Go on then, you're going to tell me anyway."

"True. Now, you said it yourself, we're not friends. We've never been anything but acquaintances, enemies, and coworkers...and now husband and wife. We completely skipped that whole," he lifted one of his hands and swirled it around, "_Couple_ thing."

"Very astute of you-"

"AND in light of your recent profession of your fondness for me-"

"I wish I could take it back," she grumbled. His ego was like a sponge, get it wet in the least and it sops it all up and swells immediately.

"I propose that we take the rest of the week to get to know each other better...in a non-business sense."

Hermione blushed and responded quickly, "I told you, I'm not like that!"

"Not like _that_," Draco scolded with a sly smirk, "Such a one track mind, love."

Her color deepened.

"I meant in a _truly _friendly sense. You know, maybe have a couple more lunches or dinners together and talk. There was a play at a nearby theatre that I was planning to see today if you'd be interested in joining..." Draco hid the insecurity in his voice at the proposal, amazed that it was creeping forward for him to have to mask in the first place.

Hermione stared at him for what seemed a very long time. So long, in fact, that she thought she could see him begin to fidget. Was he? Was Malfoy asking her out on- "A date?" The last words came out as a harsher question than intended and she saw the barest, nearly invisible, twitch at the corner of his eye. She tried again, less incredulously, "Y-you mean like a date?"

Draco cleared his throat, "Not a _date_ really...just...maybe more of a, like a _pre-date_."

She blinked. This time she made no effort to meter her tone, "A '_pre-date'_...what on earth is a pre-date-"

"I don't know!" He growled, feeling like a foolish _boy_ all of a sudden. MERLIN, this woman and what she did to him...how she continued to fluster him, he didn't understand.

"I'll go with you," Hermione amended as soon as she saw him retreating into his shell, so carefully constructed like hers. She dared not risk losing him to it when the idea of a proper date sent all of her insides aflutter, even if it was with Draco Malfoy...or perhaps _because_ it was with Draco Malfoy.

"You will?" He gave her a skeptical look.

"I will," Hermione extracted herself from the cushions, plucking up her book with a noticeable extra pep in her step. She thought of something then and smiled sheepishly, running her fingers over the cover of the primer, "Perhaps later you could help me study?"

Both of Draco's brows shot up in shock at the question. Hermione Granger – _Hermione **Malfoy**_ – asking for help studying? In all the history of Hogwarts, he was fairly sure that question was never uttered from her lips - _to_ _anyone_. To have it asked to _him_ of all people...well he couldn't be sure but he almost wanted to claim that as flirting.

"_Me_? Help _you_ study?"

Her shoulders hunched slightly, the sheepish look tilting more to full on embarrassment, "It was just a thought-"

"I will," he said as hurriedly as she had just moments before. She looked back up at him, a smile reappearing there and making him grin. Yes...definitely flirting. _'Sweet Salazar, what were they? A couple of Third Years finding their way through puberty?'_

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**A/N:** Hello again everyone! I will try to make this short (for me), but I think there are a few things that needed clarification from last post and A/N.

First, thank you everyone for the massive outpouring of support! Believe it or not, it was not my intention to incite such a thing in everyone reading, though I do appreciate the influx of reviews as well as PMs that people have sent me.

That being said, I want to apologize for derailing everyone's thoughts as much as they were. I'm sure I've gone and presented myself as the most thin-skinned writer in existence at this point for letting a negative review cause me to respond like I did, but I wanted to assure you that I'm not quite THAT sensitive and needy. :)

The review cited before was not a flame, however it _was_ taken in offense by me, albeit not with that intention from the writer. I wanted to respond to the reviewer, but without any other avenues available, I chose to do it via A/N. As I've shared with a few folks via PM, I want to clarify that it's not that I hate negative reviews - Although, who really likes those? They wouldn't be negative if you liked them - my largest issue with anything is when anyone critiques _anything_, good or bad, and is not available to actually discuss it in private.

I'm not a person of complacency and I dislike just accepting the fact that anonymity is a thing of this age especially, but it **_is_ **something that I will just have to get used to...unfortunately. I would much rather discuss and debate than argue with anyone, because I assure you, there's always some wonky way behind my thinking to make me do what I do and I like to share this information. :)

In any case, it's all said and done and you'll hear no more of it from me going forward! I'm fine! The story is fine! Hopefully, the reviewer is fine, and hasn't been worrying any further about what was said! Let's chalk it up to a learning experience, everyone. These are the power of words! I need to be just as careful with them as I implore my reviewers to be with theirs.

Thanks everyone for reading! Another installment to come next week.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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_**Knowing You**_

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Pre-dates. That's what Draco had called them. What was a 'pre-date'? A pre-date was, according to him, an outing with another person meant to get to know them to the point where you can determine if you would like to _actually_ date them; a precursor to anything serious.

Hermione had questioned if he'd just made that up that day. At Draco's hesitation to answer, she guessed he did. Surprisingly enough, the juvenile label for what they were doing now, helped put her nerves at ease. All in all it was terribly funny – considering they were already married – that she was so nervous about labeling what they were doing officially as "dates".

Their communication and comfort levels were coming along better since their last argument in the hotel lobby prior to catching the play Draco wanted to see. She had to go change into slightly fancier attire, but after that, they'd made their way to the city theatre and she tried to share her feelings on preferring these stage shows instead of motion pictures. Although, when she tried to explain the cinema to him, he looked at her like she was batty and was referring just to moving photographs. Draco still didn't seem to wrap his head around what she spoke of exactly, but she promised to explain, or even take him to see one, when they returned home – he'd held his tongue on the question of why he would want to make an evening of seeing a single moving picture, just chalking it up to some Muggle quirk he'd yet to come across in his moderate exposure to them.

Amongst discussing the story of the show, their back and forth segued into the literature that spawned the performance and further into the differences of Muggle versus Wizard works. Hermione learned that, surprisingly, Draco was fairly well versed on classic Muggle literature and his interest was not strictly held just by English writers and instead spanned many different countries and languages. She found that he preferred historical Wizarding non-fiction to most of the other items he'd read and referred to Muggle text as cute or quaint; she did very well not taking immediate offense and instead just led them on a three hour instructional course – aka _lecture_ – on Muggle literature.

Unfortunately, her tirade about reading and writing and all other facets even remotely associated with it dominated the rest of their evening to the point where they skipped a proper dinner. If not for Draco's insistence that she be fed _something_, Hermione would have been just fine with going to bed as it was, she'd done it several times before when she worked late nights anyway so it was nothing new. That earned her a lecture this time from the blonde about the merits of eating several well rounded meals throughout the day to keep up the metabolism, to which she'd very pointedly brought up the fact that alcohol was not a well rounded meal and seemed to be all he'd consumed the night before. That particular argument ended in her favor.

The issue of sleeping arrangements was a large point of contention that night as well. The awkward tension between the two was palpable in the room after both had finally gotten ready for bed – at the same time, this time. It was the first time that one of them hadn't already been unconscious before the other called it a night.

Hermione hovered by the side of the bed she'd occupied previously, fiddling with the hem of her nightshirt and shorts looking at the turned down sheets. She looked like there was about a million things she wanted to say by the way her lips pursed and her cheeks puffed but she couldn't force anything out.

Draco, on the other hand, stood much more casually on the other side of the bed leaning against the divider wall that separated them from the washroom with arms folded. He normally slept with very little on, boxers and a thin shirt, or simply the shorts, but for tonight he had a full striped pyjama set with trousers and a long sleeved top. Frankly, he felt like an old man in the getup, but despite the fact that they'd been very, _very_ naked with each other not long ago, in this less emotionally charged setting, he didn't feel right having the faded mark on his arm exposed around his new wife.

He hated the permanent smudge on his skin, a forever reminder of the stupid decisions he made when he was younger, but he always hated it more when he was around Hermione. Somehow, she never looked at it, at least he never caught her if she did. It may not have bothered her anymore but he couldn't help the wash of shame that came any time it was in view and she was near. The consequences of it never became so real as when his dark associations brought her into his very home and laid her on the decadent sitting room floor to writhe and bleed and wrench tortured screams from her throat.

Draco shook himself from his thoughts, seeking to cut the thickness of the air between them, "Why don't you just take the bed again Granger?"

She bit at her lip, "But where will you sleep?"

"The chair-," he nodded at the makeshift bed from before, "-again. It wasn't so bad, really." _Liar_.

Hermione sighed and shook her head, "No...this is silly. I mean we've s-slept together...it shouldn't be an issue to actually...uh.."

"_Sleep_ together?" He smirked.

"Yeah..." The witch took a steadying breath, squared her shoulders, and nodded as though channeling age old courage in order to climb under the sheets.

Hermione slipped under the blankets more quickly than anything Draco had ever seen her do and she pulled the covers up to her chin, covering every other inch of her otherwise. He couldn't help but grin at the sight of it. "Comfortable?"

"Quite," she chirped, though it was muffled from beneath the layers of sheets. Hermione turned her back to him, tugging most of the blankets with her as she went.

Draco chuckled and rolled his eyes, good thing he didn't chill easily or he'd be completely shit out of luck. He doused the lights in the room and made his way back to bed to slip in on the opposite side of the petite witch. Even though she was still awake, he took care not to bounce the mattress too much. With surprising ease and little protest from his nerves, he stretched out next to her beneath what was left of the blankets, covering just his legs and hips.

If possible, the silence from before came back more tensely than before.

Draco was flat on his back, one arm behind his head and the other over his stomach, quiet as a mouse while Hermione curled on her side, back to him, eyes wide open and staring into the darkness. The bed was large enough for both of them to lay in it and not be anywhere near each other, in fact, there was still the space the size of another grown adult between them now, but neither was particularly comfortable.

"Malfoy," Hermione finally piped up, shocking herself with how loud her voice sounded in the dark room.

The blonde cracked open an eye and shifted it in the direction of the woman to his side, "What?"

"I...I had fun today..."

He smirked even though she couldn't see it, "You sound surprised."

Hermione chuckled and shifted some in her cocoon of cotton, "Maybe a little.."

Silence stretched between them again for several minutes, though Draco was more alert the second time she spoke up, his own head replaying their day fondly.

"Draco?" Hermione spoke hesitantly.

This time he smiled, the sound of his given name coming from her becoming more of a welcome thing as the days went on. "Yes, Granger?"

"Tomorrow...are we..can we..." _Go on another?.._

The wizard was quiet at first this time, not responding immediately. Hermione wondered for a second if he understood what she was asking and hoped he didn't _mis_understand. She started to grow self-conscious at the half-spoken question, wondering if it was too needy, but she really did have a good time today...and yesterday until he put his foot in his mouth. A whole plethora of scenarios started emerging in her head and then she felt a soft pressure stroking over her back – his knuckles brushing between her shoulder blades carefully, cautious not to startle.

"If you want to..." He'd said it as neutrally as possible, not wanting to seem overly excited at the concept that she actually wanted to plan to go somewhere with him tomorrow.

She smiled, "Yes." She closed her eyes, the light, rhythmic strokes over her back beginning to lull her into a sleepy daze. "...I'd like that.."

Draco nodded but didn't speak again. This time it was him staring up into the darkness, his hand still stretched out and now rubbing circles over her cloth covered skin.

"...Draco.." It was much softer, much sleepier than the last two beginnings of her inquiries.

The wizard turned his head in her direction, "Go to sleep, Hermione.."

She sighed contentedly at his continued circles and mumbled, "..mmk.."

Draco rubbed Hermione's back until the pace of her breathing slowed and deepened and continued for some time after that. He was still staring at the ceiling when his arm finally started to ache from reaching over and so very carefully he turned on his side to face the direction where he knew she was now snoozing. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness long ago and he could make out her silhouette, though not much beyond that. The warmth pooling in his chest at the thought of going on another _pre-date_ was becoming distracting and sleep was currently the furthest thing from his mind.

Images of this witch's stubborn pout during their discussions and debates, her grins when she said something she deemed particularly clever, the all encompassing brilliant smiles – though normally few in his company, their frequency was growing – were running through his head and he pondered over the concept that he was responsible for any of it. A little over three weeks ago, he was responsible for a slew of different emotions in the witch and entirely content with that. If he had known how fulfilling it was to get this kind of reaction out of her for anything instead...he may not have waited so long to pursue such a thing.

Hermione when she was caught up in her flustered irritation, frenzied magic buzzing across her skin with metallic color popping to life in her eyes, was a glorious and entrancing sight.

Hermione comfortable, content, calm, and most of all, smiling at him without that glare of defiance or look of disgust was something that rivaled its beauty.

_Funny how things work out sometimes..._

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Monday morning came and some internal clock of Hermione's prevented any chance of having a lie-in that day, work or no.

Hermione breathed out a contented sigh into her warm pillow. This morning was already better than the last. There was no stuffy nose from crying the night before, no crusty spittle clumped in her hair, just a nice, warm, firm cushion beneath her. A moving cushion. The witch shifted groggily, picking her head up and blinking down at the stripey gray cotton beneath her, the action of sitting up making the arm that was wrapped loosely around her midsection slip off and back onto the mattress.

Her blurred eyes widened a fraction at the face of the blonde, peaceful, snoozing and still stretched out along the bed at her side as though they'd done this a million times before. It was only really her second time seeing him anywhere near her upon waking, this being the closest he'd been yet, but the serene and relaxed set of his features put her at ease immediately and calmed the instinctual urge to bolt. For someone usually so careful and guarded, seeing him like that took the worry out of the air at once.

Hermione rubbed at her eyes, sitting more upright and trying not to shake the bed and wake him up. She was certain she'd gone to sleep at the edge of the mattress, but when she looked, the spot she remembered occupying before was far from her and it seems she'd wiggled her way onto him at some point in the middle of the night – traitorous body. Hermione mentally blamed him for being so warm and apparently an excellent pillow.

"...back to sleep.."

The gravelly grumble at her back startled a yelp from her and the witch turned back to see Draco peering up at her between slitted eyes. From what she could see, the smokey color of his irises was glossed over and there was slight coherency in his gaze but just barely.

"It's morning," Hermione said simply, finding her voice wasn't much better than his just yet and started to scoot to the edge of the bed.

Draco grunted and flipped onto his side, reaching a long arm around her escaping waist to move her petite form back into the center of the bed, curling around her like a spoon and tossing a leg heavily over hers. "We're on holiday, woman...go back to sleep..."

"Draco! Let go!" She protested, knocking a small fist against his arm, but to her own surprise, she wasn't nearly as appalled by his forwardness as she probably should have been.

When the heat of him pressed flush to her entire backside, she could already feel the edges of sleep creeping back in. Hermione's eyes started to drift shut, her head still not quite alert enough to pitch enough of a fit that they were in bed _snuggling_. She felt his nose nuzzle into the back of her neck, digging into her nest of curls, his arm tightening about her midsection, and she rested a hand over it with the intention of pushing it away; that was the initial plan anyway. The wizard exhaled a deep breath along the skin there, mumbling something that sounded like a comment on her smelling of flowers and she squirmed.

"That tickles," she chastised in a whisper and wriggled again.

Draco grunted and nuzzled his face more snugly against her neck until she loosed a giggle and his lips upturned in a smirk. "What's wrong with you? Go back to bed," he teased, his voice holding more of an alertness to it this next time. He heard her starting to speak and blew raspberries on her nape, earning him something between a squeak and a screech along with more squirming.

"STOP THAT!" Hermione managed a stern word through her involuntary giggles but it lacked any true exasperation behind it.

The blonde laughed, eventually releasing her at the prodding of her elbow into his stomach. Draco rolled onto his back again, folding his arms behind his head. He watched her – now with his very alert eyes – move back to her side of the bed, though this time she was on her side facing him. Her dark eyes were glittering with amusement and raking over him studiously, lips curled in a smirk much like his own.

"Not tired?" Draco grinned at her innocently.

Hermione chuckled and tossed one of her pillows at him. She didn't even bother responding directly to the comment as she pulled herself the rest of the way out of bed. "Get up."

The wizard caught the offensive down filled object and added it to his pillow stack behind his head, "It's too early."

"It's not! Besides, I'm hungry."

Draco turned his back on her, the subtle scent of her from the pillow tickling his nose, "How can you be hungry at this hour?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and took to rifling through the drawers of the room's dresser, looking for something in particular, "_'I__t's important to have several well rounded meals a day, __Granger,'_" she mocked him in a very unflattering version of his speech, her voice deepening in a poor imitation, "Well I'm ready for my first one, so get up."

The wizard snorted at her impression, "Maybe if you'd listened to me about a proper dinner, you wouldn't be nearly so hungry."

A pair of trunks came flying across the room with surprising velocity, landing heavily on Draco's face. He scowled at his sluggish reaction and peeled them away, looking at Hermione in confusion when he realized what they were. "What are you doing?"

She half ignored him, "I want to see the lagoon today and I want to go before it gets too crowded. Malfoy, of all of my things that you managed to pack, did you honestly take me to the beach without it?"

The last bits of the sleepy fog in Draco's head were blown away by the implication from the brunette still rustling through the drawers. An image of Hermione in a skimpy little two-piece fluttered to mind and he sat up, suddenly very interested in helping her with her task. Did Red pack it? Please, for the love of Merlin, say that she did. Worst case scenario maybe he could take her shopping for one-

"Draco?"

"Huh? Sorry, what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh, moving from shifting things around in the drawers to full on pulling items out bit by bit, "I know it's early, but really, can you listen for at least a moment? Is there even any reasoning to how you unpacked things?"

Draco came up behind her and looked over shoulder, "Of course there is...but I thought you unpacked all of your own clothes. Didn't you see it then?" _Please, __tell me you __did__..._ "Or..hey, why are you looking through MY things?"

The witch froze, "Oh..ah.."

He looked more closely at what she was doing and realized she was picking through several of his pants and socks, but more peculiarly were her own under-things in the same drawer off to one side. Upon closer inspection, it seemed she'd unpacked her belongings to share with his own. The one she was sifting through now had lost its clean division, but he peeked into one of the other still partially open drawers and saw that she'd done the same thing with some of the clothing he brought that didn't actually have to be hung up.

The blonde looked at her curiously and Hermione blushed, forgetting her task at hand. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind. It's just..something that." _...that my parents did..sharing their space.. _She shook her head and apologized again, "Sorry."

Draco tilted his head to one side, confused but not upset. The shadow that passed over her features made him want to ask and want to _not _ask at the very same time. Instead, he stroked a hand over her hair and down her back, causing her to blink back up at him shyly. He met her look with a smirk. "No reason to apologize, Granger. I'm sure you've had your shots."

Hermione stared at him a long second before breathing out a laugh. "And here I thought it was too early for you to be a prat."

"Never," he purred. Draco listened to her laugh again and thought it a nice thing to hear if he had to be up that early for anything not work related. He looked down at the dresser again, puzzled at how he missed the fact that they'd meshed their things together in the first place. He was typically much more observant than that and he-

_'Oh...idiot.'_

Draco rolled his eyes at himself, marching back to his side of the bed to retrieve his wand from the nightstand. Hermione's own eyes followed him in question until she realized what he was doing and that look quickly changed into one of embarrassment once again.

Apparently neither of them were functioning at full capacity yet that morning if they both forgot they could summon the damned thing from wherever it was hiding if it was there at all.

"Well, it's a good thing we're not in the middle of another bloody war," Draco remarked teasingly.

"Sometimes I prefer to do things the Muggle way! I _am_ Muggle-born after all," Hermione countered defensively to hide her blunder, "What's your excuse?"

He eyed her familiar hip-jutting posture with a smirk, "I'm married to one?"

She gave him a look that made him chuckle, the corners of her own lips twitching and resisting the stern visage she tried to maintain.

Draco pointed his wand at the dresser, "_Accio_ Hermione's bikini!"

Nothing happened.

The blonde looked over to the witch who was giving him a different look now, as if to say '_Really?'._

Wishful thinking. With a sigh, Draco pointed his wand again, "_Accio _Hermione's swim costume?"

This time a rattle came from one of the closed drawers. Hermione went quickly to open it and a hunk of cloth came flying towards the wizard, who caught it deftly, redeeming himself from earlier. The garment that came to him was disappointingly a one-piece affair. Although, it was rather sleek and sporty looking, much less casual than most women would wear. It lacked any real kind of decorations or general aesthetic touches and its design seemed very meticulous and practical. It was very..._Hermione_.

Draco rubbed his thumb over the material, its dull sheen and the stretched knit giving the impression that it was well used. "You swim often?"

"I used to," she said simply, snatching the suit away from him and shaking it out. A frown was set on her face, less from his question and more irked because she'd put the thing in the 'wrong' spot.

He watched her with a raised eyebrow as she went back quickly through each portion of the dresser to do a quick once over that no more of her items were put in the incorrect place. The woman truly was neurotic sometimes. He smiled at her back when she let out a little huff at finding something else where she deemed wrong and went through each drawer another time. This time she left everything in its appropriate spot and neatly divided between both their sets of clothing.

"Good to know."

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If anyone had ever asked either of them if they thought they would be sharing a meal together, one of several at this point, in a slightly better than cordial, yet not quite chummy, manner, their answers would most definitely have been dipped toward the negative. As it was then, Draco and Hermione were having a surprisingly pleasant dinner on an early Wednesday evening. The relative midway point of the week was a pleasingly quiet day to go out on the town without running into too awful of a crowd.

"So...just how many languages is it you speak, anyway?" Hermione asked, cutting a slice of steak and popping it into her mouth.

Draco shrugged, "As many as I need to."

The witch tapped at her lip thoughtfully with the hand holding her fork, waiting until she was finished chewing and swallowing to speak again. "But I thought you don't go on location very often."

"I don't, but that doesn't mean I don't have to correspond with foreign agents still." He took a pull of wine from his glass and then dabbed the excess moisture away with a napkin. "I mainly deal with surrounding European countries, but on occasion I am assigned to sources in North America and Asia. For those occasional ones, I'll use translators if needed, but I've found for any regions where we get ingredients imported on any kind of regular basis it's just easier for me to know how to speak, read, and write the languages myself," Draco leaned back in his chair, slinging one arm casually over the back of it, "Some of the proposals that come through are particularly urgent and the big heads tend to get miffed if they're not handled in a particular fashion."

Hermione's head tilted to one side in question, "But if they're urgent, shouldn't they be marked as such? Even if it's in another language, that should be a standard procedure, shouldn't it?"

He chuckled, "In an idealistic world? Yes. Unfortunately, that's not the case in practice. And even when they are marked appropriately, my insistence of urgency doesn't always get received well...or at all...by the contracted translators. Then I've got the higher ups coming down on me trying to figure out why an important account didn't get 'serviced in a timely fashion'." Draco waved a hand dismissively, "It's just easier to handle it all myself if I can rather than leaving any bit of it to someone else to cock up."

"But that's not your fault then!" Hermione piped up animatedly, the indignant tone filling her person on his behalf, "If you're doing what you're supposed to do, _how_ you're supposed to do it, you shouldn't be expected to do all that other rubbish beyond your typical assignments. If the services that you're expected to use to accomplish your task are unreliable a-a-and _USELESS_ when it absolutely counts, then they should provide you with access to other services and not punish you for doing as you're told!"

A warm looked crossed his features and he plucked up his goblet to have another sip, "Your optimism is showing, Granger."

She waggled a finger at him, ignoring the sarcasm, "Draco that's serious! Have you alerted your superiors? Or whoever it is you're supposed to of this continuing problem?"

He eyed her studiously, watching how easily she championed his cause and appointed herself an advocate for change – she seemed to do that a lot. Never would he have thought to see it with anything regarding himself, however. "Of course I have. Several times...but not everyone responds as well to me as they do to say..._you_, Hermione."

Hermione pouted, the beginnings of offense settling in her shoulders, "What do you mean? If you're implying favoritism, I think you're way off base-"

Draco shook his head, "Not favoritism." He thought about how to explain his daily life to her, "I think it's just...caution I suppose, on their part. Habit, maybe?" At her still confused look he sighed, leaning back in and lowering his voice as he spoke next. "Sometimes I think you – of all people – are the only one that forgets that I was a Death Eater. People don't _trust_ me, regardless of how hard I work or what I do. They've only even recently stopped turning up their nose at me when I'm looking at them, though I'm sure it still continues when I'm not. I've brought my concerns to light several times, but it doesn't do anything. Prejudice still exists in The Ministry, just not in the same capacity that it once did," he smiled at her but it lacked genuine humour, "Taste of my own medicine, huh?"

_'I trust you..'_ Hermione frowned, taking a sip of her water.

He was one of the few people at The Ministry who she could actually rely on to get anything done, ironically enough. Although, if anyone was able to empathize with such a situation, she was probably the best to do so. Even though it wasn't that long ago that she suffered more than her share at the hands of prejudiced witches and wizards like Draco, she still didn't sanction discrimination in any capacity; nobody deserved such exception and segregation for any reason.

"It's fighting a losing battle, Granger, and it's just not worth the effort. Easier to just deal with it myself..." He added thoughtfully after a moment with a reassuring smile this time, "Besides, it makes it easier to impress people by being multilingual."

She chuckled and teased, following his lead away from the topic that he was so gracefully trying to avoid speaking on any further, "I knew there was a _real_ reason. It was really for all those witches you wanted to attract isn't it?"

Draco shook his head and gave her a meaningful look, "I'm not interested in them."

Hermione smiled, eyes glittering with a sparked mischief, "The wizards then? If that's the case then I think I owe a few of my friends some Galleons."

The blonde laughed, a good and rich sound straight from the belly. "Right. Blaise, Theo, and I are all a bunch of nancies. It was all a ruse, sorry for the deception. I should've known better than to wed a sleuth."

"_Knew_ it." She smirked and went about cutting herself another piece of her food.

The silence between them was amicable while they both indulged in their respective meals. Draco noticed her pushing around some of her vegetables on her plate, the tiniest twitch of her lips looking like she was itching to say something.

He arched an eyebrow and prompted her boldly, "Something else you wanted to ask?"

Hermione hesitated, chewing her most recent bite thoughtfully before setting down her utensils again and nodding. "It's just..if it's so much work in something that you don't really seem to enjoy, why do you keep doing it? I mean...well, what I mean is, why don't you pursue another career? You're still young...and..I heard that you'd applied to become an Auror before you got this position..." She'd used that small bit of knowledge against him several times with malice in many of their past fights and she waffled on saying anything, but at this point she was genuinely curious about what happened.

Draco stiffened and she must've noticed because her eyes darted back down to her plate. It was a sensitive subject, a very sensitive subject. With no small amount of effort, he fought to keep his tongue in check. His first instincts were to be defensive, to snap at her like he always did. Luckily, his brain was still mostly sober and sober Draco-brain told him that yelling at his wife on another of their pre-dates wasn't conducive to making anything work...even though he wasn't sure what he was trying to 'make work' exactly, he still knew in his core that it was most ill advised.

"I'm surprised that's all you know about that tidbit of information," Draco winced at the harsh way even that much made it out of his mouth. She was still looking at her place setting sheepishly and when she drew her lip up between her teeth he sighed inwardly. Reaching across the table, he brushed his fingertips over one of the hands she had resting there. "Tell you what, I'll share if you do."

Hermione blinked first at his hand and then to him and his face. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on," he looked offended, "You're stuck in a closet of an office in the dank corner of the Auror's department, set to the task of picking apart cursed jewelry and filing reports all day for a fraction of the amount of money that your brain alone is worth, much less the whole of you. I've said it already once before, you can lie to all the rest of us about how unhappy you are in that pitiful position, but please don't lie to yourself."

"I'm not unhappy!" She protested, pushing her mind past the flattery that seemed to come so easily to him; if she didn't, she'd get distracted.

Draco just looked at her.

"I'm not!" Hermione met his eyes still for several heartbeats then slumped in her chair like a marionette with severed strings. "Okay...so I'm bloody _miserable," _she sighed, "I just feel like I've invested so much at this point that it would be silly to leave."

"Versus staying and continuing to be miserable and wasting even more of your time and efforts?"

Hermione pouted, "It's really not that simple."

Draco ran his thumb across her hand again, turning her palm face up and tracing over the lines there. "How about we take a walk around the city and you can tell me all about how not simple it is, because really I'm dying to know what keeps you in that cesspit."

Her cheeks pinked as she watched the circles his thumb made, all the while trying to calm the flutter in her stomach and the budding heat elsewhere at his easy touches. "It's not really that interesting...I'm sure it's quite dull, in fact-"

"Granger, there is positively nothing dull about you. You make entirely everything frustratingly complicated."

Hermione snorted, "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Maybe."

She rolled her eyes, "You're impossible."

"Of course."

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_**.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-.**_

Their walk around the city was more enlightening than Hermione thought a walk could really be. Of course most of it had to do with the company and conversation, but everything she'd learned about Draco today filled in pieces about him that she never realized were missing.

Reluctant to share at first, after she told him the story of her motivations behind accepting the Curse-breaker Liaison position within the Auror department and how it was really little more than nostalgic and social comfort reasons, Draco loosened up some.

He told her how he changed his courses around and took on all the extra work he needed to in order to align himself with the Auror program at The Ministry upon completion of their schooling. Draco left himself with little to no time for a social life, which was just as well since most of his mates had forgone returning to school to finish out their stay. Even Quidditch had to get cut from his schedule with how bogged down he was having to catch up after botching his sixth and seventh years royally. He'd opted to stay at the castle for all of the holidays, working through them as best he could instead of going home to face the tense atmosphere that'd lingered heavily in the Manor following the war.

"All of it because I knew I wanted to have a chance to make some kind of difference," he admitted to her as their hotel came into view, "I wanted to prove that I wasn't the worthless little shit that everyone thought me to be."

Draco wanted to show them as much as he wanted to show himself and he thought becoming an Auror was the most direct way to do it: delivering _real _justice to the witches and wizards who were like how he and his family once were. The ones that were beyond 'any whimsical Hufflepuff rehabilitation' he'd said, earning him a laugh from the brunette.

He shrugged, "I'm know it's a romanticized and idealistic vision of the job, but I couldn't see myself doing much else at the time."

Hermione nodded along to his story, "I remember seeing more of you in classes that year than any others..." It didn't occur to her until then that the two career paths shared several prerequisites. She also recalled the intensity with which he focused on his studies. More than once, she caught him at a far nook in the library working on writing reports and finishing assignments. He'd barely spoken a word to her that year and had scowled at her even less.

Draco kept talking, detailing more of his time at school leading up to his application to The Ministry. With a wry smile, he explained how he applied and was turned down. The Head of the Department didn't feel it would be in their best interest to have someone around that could potentially rile up the troops from within so severely and, despite his scores, denied the application with a kick to the gut statement that Draco would never become an Auror while HE was in charge.

Shacklebolt, of all people, had come to him after he'd gotten word that his application was tossed aside. The Minister who, thanks to a new series of checks and balances implemented after the war and corruption that'd seeped its way into the position previously, wasn't able to turn over the decision but reviewed his scores and deemed losing him as an asset to the organization completely a total waste. He approached him with the oh-so-illustrious position that he occupied currently. It was nothing like he'd ever pictured as a career up to then, but with the reality of things so freshly thrown in his face, he wouldn't allow himself to be foolish and turn it down.

"He at least offered me a foot in the door," Draco shrugged, "It's hard to say no to that when everyone else is just clambering to get _away_ from you."

Hermione frowned. She was only now truly realizing the harsh reality of the magnitude of the discrimination against him.

It had started then, really it had started from the moment that he was labeled the attempted murderer of the beloved Headmaster and had yet to cease. After the war, even after his pardon – all his family's pardons – their family name was heavily tarnished. There were still some who would do business with the Malfoys without batting an eyelash, but the majority wanted no association with them in any capacity. The fact that Draco came back to Hogwarts, of ALL places, with only vague promises from The Ministry assuring his protection was truly astounding and either utterly brave or positively barmy.

Hermione fell into an easier step at his side, their knuckles brushing in passing every now and then on an up or downswing of their arms. She glanced to her side, seeing his eyes set forward but his attention securely in his memories. Cautiously, she timed the movement of their hands and slipped hers into his, weaving her fingers between his own and drawing him out of himself with wide eyes. He searched her face for something and she just offered him a small smile and looked ahead of them again, squeezing his hand lightly with hers until he finally curled his fingers around it.

She cleared her throat quietly, "I remember being very upset to see you there..."

If Draco was surprised by this revelation, he showed no sign of it.

"I...watched you like a hawk, convinced that you were going to be trouble even after all that had happened."

The wizard nodded, swinging their clasped hands lightly in an easy rhythm that didn't quite match the tightness around his eyes, "It was a reasonable concern."

She didn't have anything else to say right away and let the silence drag between them as she thought back to school.

Hermione's suspicions lessened over time, though never completely going away, after she saw that he really avoided talking to much of anyone, or rather that most everyone avoided speaking to _him_ – even many members of his own house. Seeing him so ostracized at the time – she shamefully admitted to herself – did not fill her with sympathy then but just with a heaving sigh of relief for her own interests. It wasn't until after being reunited with the man in the workplace and being forced to co-exist in some kind of professional manner that she really started feeling much of anything for him again, and for the most part, at least in the beginning, it was contempt. They were able to build a reasonable working relationship, but it certainly took a good amount of regular exposure again for it to happen.

Hermione glanced at his profile again and saw that he'd drifted off into his own mind yet again.

That was just _her _part in his life. Multiply that by practically every other witch or wizard Draco came into contact with on a daily basis and you'd have a very unfortunate number. **That** was the number he had to push back against in some way, shape, or form on a daily basis. Even with their dwindling numbers, all against one is a significant piece of the pie.

At least for Hermione, the kind of discrimination rallied against her and her kind was deemed unlawful and inhumane and people were disciplined for exhibiting behavior that encouraged it now. She could only imagine trying to function as a free standing adult in a society that still hated her where that was a perfectly acceptable social norm.

Sure there were supposed to be laws and regulations in place to prevent what was happening to him now, but when the people meant to uphold these laws were so emotionally invested in things, black and white areas became gray and heads turned conveniently in opposite directions more often than not.

Hermione stopped, tugging Draco back lightly with their joined hands when he kept on before noticing she'd paused. He looked around as though the scenery would answer the unspoken question of why they were no longer moving. When he saw that they were just around the bend from their hotel entrance at this point, he quirked an eyebrow at her, "What's wrong?"

Stepping closer to the wizard, Hermione looked him over, much as she did to herself every day. She saw his pale skin, his even paler blonde hair, and his questioning gray eyes set in all of the angular and pointy features of the boy who made her young life a living hell.

Lifting her free hand to his face, she brushed some out of place fringe from his forehead.

This time she saw not the foul, loathsome evidence of the stupid boy she remembered, but enlightenment lingering in the tightened expression of a man who made many mistakes. She saw regret and drive, but she saw also the complacency settling into him. Complacency because he understood the only chances anyone in this new world would give him have already been provided. Complacency because somewhere in the steel of his eyes and the set of his shoulders, he _REALLY_ believed that's all he deserved.

"I'm sorry, Draco."

His head tilted to one side like a bird's, utterly confused now. "For what?"

"For behaving as I did."

Draco blinked at her a few times then finally chuckled, but it was strained. "Granger, you barely acknowledged my existence to my face that year."

"Yes, but I _watched_ you. I watched and tracked every thing you did, every single move you made for almost the entire first half of the year because I was convinced that...that you.."

He frowned at the tremble in her jaw, not understanding why she was getting so upset about it now. For the most part, he'd gone beyond being offended anymore. If he let everything people said burrow into him, he'd have driven his wand through his skull by this point.

Draco reached up to stroke her cheek, hoping to chase away the growing look of disgust that was blooming there, "It's not a big deal, you didn't trust me. It's okay-"

"No, it's not!" She snapped.

The raising of her voice drew a few nearby glances and her skin flushed with embarrassment. Hermione led them quickly away from sight until it was safe to Apparate the rest of the way to their room.

Once there, she picked up precisely where she left off, "It's _**not**_ okay."

The wizard looked shocked at the outburst, "Hermione, you don't have to-"

"No," she said again and shoved him down until he was sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed, blinking strangely up at her. Hermione smoothed a hand over her hair and exhaled heavily, starting to pace, "We fought for freedom and equality. I fought for these things, I've ALWAYS fought for these things. From S.P.E.W. to Muggle rights...to just EVERYTHING that I've ever done, yet I so blatantly treated you like you were less than me. It's one thing to spout mean names to one another in school, it's another entirely to look at someone like I looked at you."

"I deserved it."

The fact that his statement lacked any of his teasing tone to it at all made her heart stutter even more. Hermione stopped her pacing and came back to sit carefully beside him, picking at her nails nervously instead of looking at him. "You deserved some things, but not _that_. How I looked at you...how I felt about you...it was like we'd switched places from all those years ago. I'd taken the role of the thing that I preached the most against, but because I was on the 'good' side...it was okay."

Draco grimaced. Hearing her describe in such indirect wording how strongly she felt about the way he acted around her made him feel like less of a man. "You shouldn't feel sorry about it, Granger. I _was_ on the bad side. And I _was_ a fucking prick to you. If anything, I should be the one apologizing and telling you I'm sorry."

Hermione looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes, gnawing at the corner of her bottom lip. The question came out before she could even think, "Are you?"

He winced at the question. He'd set himself up for it, really. One thing that Draco Malfoy didn't do well, was apologize. Most of the time, it was because he wasn't sorry for the things he did, a serious sense of entitlement having been bred into all of his bloodline. There were, of course, many things he DID regret, however...but to come out and admit to them out loud was still a feat he had a great deal of trouble with.

"I _am_ sorry that I ever hurt you with the things I said or did," he said carefully, watching her nail fiddling and fidgeting increase when she realized his tone still held a 'but'. "But...I'm not sorry about everything."

Hermione froze, eyes gone wide and mouth slack, her throat bobbed as the anger was starting to bubble forth. She was about to speak when Draco pulled her hands into his, tugging them close together and pulling them up near his chest until she would look him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry that people got hurt, _killed._ I'm not a good man...but I'm not a killer. I'm sorry that I didn't turn my back on that lunatic sooner," he growled the words as he thought about the Dark Lord parading about his home like he owned it. "I'm sorry I couldn't figure out a better way to try to save my parents than the way that I did..."

Her eyes softened some at the flashes of regret she saw clearly in his face and a little spark of hope reignited in her chest that she really did see glimpses of a different man before.

"Hermione, believe me when I say that I AM sorry for all of that."

The witch nodded eventually, staring at his thumbs and the circles he was rubbing into the backs of her hands – something she'd found apparently soothed him. "Dare I ask then what it is that you're _not_ sorry about?"

He hesitated, looking hard at their joined hands once again, his eyes drawn to her rings and then to his one. Draco gave her a small smile. It was weak and vulnerable and one of his rarer and more genuine ones and he just hoped that she couldn't tell the difference.

"The decisions we make shape us. They determine who we are and where we go in life...who we end up with _in_ our lives," he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "I think..I think it's obvious I've made some shit decisions over the years, but I dare say that the decision to pick on and hound this one buck-toothed, bushy haired, sassy, know-it-all Muggle-born witch for the better part of 10 years was one I can't bring myself to be sorry for."

Hermione watched the thumb nearest to her wedding and engagement bands nudge the both of them and she looked back into his eyes. So far she'd learned to identify most of Draco's thoughts and emotions through careful examination of the clues in those eyes. Most recently, she'd come to know his look of lust: his pupils would dilate, the color of his irises would darken and his stare would intensify, locking onto her like she were the only thing in the room. This look he was giving her now, this look was similar, yet in some way so very different. There were all of the things she'd learned that signaled his arousal present, but it had a completely different feel to it that she couldn't quite describe. All she knew is that it sang to parts of her that clenched and tingled quite readily in response to his heated stares with the added bonus of letting loose a swarm of butterflies in both her chest and belly at the same time.

Deciding not to dawdle on it for too long, Hermione leaned in towards the wizard still clasping her hands. "I can never tell whether you're insulting me or giving me a compliment."

Draco watched the movement her lips made with her quiet mumble. "Have the two ever been mutually exclusive with us?"

Her eyes flitted down to his mouth this time. She smirked when she saw his and shook her head. "No...I suppose not. Maybe you should make more of an effort to separate them."

"Bossy," Draco purred at her gentle teasing, moving in to close off the gap between them.

Hermione tugged her hands free so she could curl them up around his neck, fingers dipping into the baby soft fuzz at his nape. She sighed against the skin that danced across her lips. "Git."

The wizard grinned and nodded, snaking his arms around her back so he could press her more closely to his body. "Only to you," he murmured fondly before slanting his mouth over hers, drawing her bottom lip between his teeth so he could nibble at it like she always would, pulling a soft moan from her throat along with it.

The sound vibrated through his body and he was moving her again, this time further up the mattress with zero protest from the brunette in his arms. If the way she tugged off his jacket and freed his shirt from the confines of his trousers was any indication, they seemed to be sharing the same line of thought.

It was true, what he said, his contract forbade him to be anything but cordial to her friends...and since she was friends with practically everyone it seemed, she got to have his sarcasm and wit all to herself.

With his shirt thrown across the room and those delicate nails raking over his bare back, lips tangling with his in slow and languid kisses peppered with teases and tastes of tongue, and her little hands all over every inch of him without care of blemish or scars or his mark, he felt good to assume that she was fine with this.

Maybe he should apologize more often.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello all! Sorry for the late post...and it's a bit shorter in length than I would like, but I wanted to go ahead and pop something up here for you. It may be a little weird...I promise that it eventually makes sense and somehow matters though. I'm sorry again as it's unedited...hopefully there's no glaring errors I missed. I have a commissioned bit of work that has to be completed within the next month or so, so I may have longer than usual times between chapter updates for me coming up. I will write and update this as quickly as I can during that time, but I can't promise too much at the moment! Thank you all in advance for your support and I appreciate you all for reading. :)


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